


Between the Lines

by SurlyCat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anonymity, Anxiety, Awesome Sam, Blow Jobs, Bookstores, Castiel Feels, Cell Phones, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Minor Angst, Phone Sex, Possessive Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Texting, Topping from the Bottom, Writer Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2017-12-22 10:32:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 78,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SurlyCat/pseuds/SurlyCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak is comfortable in his life of routine and organization, happy to help manage a bookstore and go home each night to work on his novel. Dean Winchester owns a garage and has been absorbing himself in his work as he copes with the death of his father. Then an unfortunately worded text happens...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was Tuesday, and it was slow. There had only been maybe ten customers since the bookstore had opened at eight that morning and not a whole lot of stock work left over from the day before. Castiel sighed heavily as he glared at the enormous pile of re-shop that had been accumulating over the last few hours. It’s not that he was a lazy worker, but it was just…Tuesday. The dullest, most boring day of the week, and Castiel had come to loathe Tuesdays for their utter lack of significant activity. Still, he just couldn’t seem to summon up the gumption to actually change that and do the work that he was being paid to do. Feeling a sudden pressure change in the air, he glanced out the large storefront window to see clouds in the distance, dark with the promise of rain. He heaved another great sigh.

“What’s with all the extra broodiness today?”

Castiel hadn’t noticed his boss approach and startled at the question. “Hmmm? Oh, well, I didn’t realize I was ‘extra’ anything today. I suppose it’s just…”

Gabriel rolled his eyes fondly and smirked. “Yeah, I know, it’s Tuesday. But you seem off. Even your hair is brooding! You doing okay?”

Reaching up a self-conscious hand to smooth down his unruly locks and realizing belatedly it had been a tease, Castiel knitted his eyebrows. “I guess. Nothing in particular is wrong, anyway. Just a general sense of discontent.” With a shrug, Castiel pushed off from the counter he was leaning on and eyed the pile of discarded books again. “I’m going to take care of this re-shop before the rain moves in. You know it’ll pick up in here once the weather gets bad.”

Gabriel shook his head and chuckled. “I know! Why in the hell do people insist on getting in their cars and driving through shit weather to hang out in a bookstore? Who does that? Crazy people with no sense, that’s who.” The store manager shuffled off with half of the book pile loaded in a basket, muttering about jammy-pants and staying home as he went.

Castiel grinned at his manager’s retreating back and started organizing the book pile by the sections they each belonged in. Then he stacked them in order within his basket, so that he could work from the back of the store toward the front with utmost efficiency. The extra minute he took to organize paid off, as Castiel finished his basket well before Gabriel, but he didn’t spite his manager’s less than efficient style; this was just how they worked together.

After doing general grunt work for three months, accepting the position of assistant manager at Between the Lines had been a no-brainer for Castiel, who was secretly pleased that he would finally have the authority to bring some much needed order to the mess of a store. When Castiel had initially hired in, the store hadn’t been open for very long and Gabriel was clearly spread way too thin between trying to bring it into some sense of order, hire and train new employees, and meet the demands of a long-distance owner that didn’t seem interested in anything but numbers. Although Gabriel’s loud and flamboyant nature took some getting used to, Castiel had come to appreciate the light-hearted approach that the store manager took with his employees and the two quickly formed a strong rapport with each other. It didn’t take long for Gabriel to see the fruits of Castiel’s near-obsessive organization and decided it wise to leave his employee to his own devices more often than not. This is why he wasn’t surprised at all to see that Castiel was already back at the register, task completed, and staring out the window again as the rain started to patter against the glass.

“And now we wait,” Castiel mumbled distractedly, as Gabriel joined him again.

Only five minutes had passed before the first soaked and shivering customers wandered in, a small group of teenaged girls, who went straight for the Erotica section, giggling nervously. Castiel surmised by their blushing and peeking around the store that they must have been part of the ‘goody-goods’ at their school and caught Gabriel’s eye to chuckle fondly at the girls’ naivety. The only one that hadn’t been giggling and carrying on was a slip of a girl with bright ginger hair and pale skin that was intently scanning the pages of one of the raunchier titles they carried for a moment before closing it with a sigh and replacing it on the shelf. The store was fairly quiet, so her nasally voice carried easily when she blurted out, “Guys, _I’ve_ written better smut than this. I’m going over to the biographies.”

Gabriel barked out a surprised laugh, and the girl just shrugged her shoulders as she walked past the register to the other section. The other girls gaped at her for a moment before returning their books to the shelves and looking sheepish as they dispersed to other parts of the store. Quieting down, Gabriel shook his head and grinned. “It’s always the quiet ones, huh?”

Castiel chuckled and turned back toward the door, watching more customers come in. Customer service was more Gabriel’s forte, so the shorter man scooted off to charm the arriving customers, while Castiel discreetly walked the aisles, cleaning up behind the customers as they put his shelves into disarray. Huffing at the mess left on the clearance table, he set to work trying to get it back in some semblance of order and cursed quietly to himself when he found a leaking tube of children’s yogurt mucking up a pile of generic romance novels. Who on earth brings yogurt into a store? Castiel turned quickly with the intention of setting off to get paper towels, but instead ended up walking directly into a solid wall of rather large man, both letting out an ‘oof’ at the impact.

“Er, sorry man. You alright?” The floppy-haired giant reached out a stabilizing hand to Castiel’s shoulder, embarrassment written plainly in warm hazel eyes.

Recovering quickly, Castiel took a step back and looked up sheepishly as he pushed his heavy-framed glassed back up his nose. “Yes, I’m fine. Sorry about that! Are you okay?”

The man snorted and gestured between them. “I think you’d be more likely to get hurt than me, no offense. But yeah, I’m good. Question though. Do you have any coffee table books that feature classic cars?”

Castiel nodded and took off toward the other side of the store, the man trailing behind him. The man’s eyes lit up the moment he laid eyes on the first book that Castiel pulled out. “That is just too weird…this was actually the one I was hoping you guys would have. Thanks!”

Without hesitation, the book was brought to the front and paid for, the man giving Castiel an appreciative grin and leaving the store. Gabriel sauntered up moments later with a handful of yogurt-covered paper towels and a smirk on his face as he tossed the mess in the trash can behind the counter. When Castiel made no move to acknowledge the smirk, Gabriel huffed and put his hands on his hips.

“Well?”

Castiel looked worriedly back at the clearance table. “Oh. My apologies; I meant to clean that up.”

“Oh come on, Castiel! I’m not asking about the mess. I’m talking about that majestic moose with all the sideburns. What do you think?” Gabriel waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Not my type,” Castiel answered blandly.

Gabriel quirked an eyebrow at him and tilted his head. “Is anyone your type? No offense, but I swear if you don’t use it, your dick’s going to jump off and run away to look for some action on its own.”

“That is beyond inappropriate, Gabe,” Castiel chided without any heat.

“Truth is truth, no matter where you are when you say it.” Gabriel gestured vaguely around them to indicate his awareness of their surroundings. Looking around, they realized that the store was nearly empty and glanced up at the clock to see that it was a few minutes after 3:00. “Why don’t you go ahead and clock out? I can handle it by myself, and Chuck’ll be here soon, anyway; he’s coming in early today.”

Even though every hour’s pay mattered, Castiel just couldn’t find it in himself to disagree with the suggestion. “Thanks, Gabe. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Castiel admittedly had nothing to do for the rest of the day except swing by his landlord’s office to drop off the rent, but the chance to do nothing in the comfort of his own home was still inviting. Considering that his landlord didn’t keep regular hours, Castiel decided to text first to see if he would be there. After a little fishing around, he found the business card with the phone number on it and typed up a text as he sat in his car.

**> >Do you want me to come now, or wait a while?    3:12pm**

He realized right after he hit ‘send’ that he hadn’t stated his name and started a new message to clarify. Before he could send it, his phone buzzed with a reply.

_-Heh…depends…how long do you have?   3:13pm_

**> >All afternoon.   3:13pm**

_\--Well then angle, what are you wearing?  3:14pm_

‘Oh shit, please tell me I typed in the wrong number,’ Castiel thought to himself. But wait a second.

**> >Were you trying to call me a celestial being, or referring to a mathematical term?  3:15pm**

As soon as he hit send, he banged the phone against his forehead. What had possessed him to respond to that? Now he would either look like a flirt or a smartass to what was possibly his landlord. Who might just be trying for some afternoon delight. Ugh. He pulled out the card to compare the phone numbers, but the phone buzzed again, distracting him.

_\--Got a smart mouth today, huh? Id love to know just how smart it really is…  3:15pm_

**> >This is not Joshua, is it?   3:16pm**

_\--Uhhh no.  3:18pm_

**> >My apologies.  3:18pm**

Castiel was somewhere between embarrassed, amused, and skeeved out that some stranger had just thought he was initiating phone sex. And who just does that with a number they don’t recognize? Shaking his head, he carefully put in the correct number this time and added it to his contacts to avoid any future confusion. An actual phone call revealed that Joshua was indeed at the office, so Castiel dropped off his rent and made his way home.

Stepping into his small apartment, Castiel felt like he could breathe now that he was in the comfort of his home. He had his ‘coming home’ routine and set to it immediately, first toeing off his shoes, then taking off his pants and overshirt, tossing them on the back of the armchair near the door. While waiting on the kettle to boil, he started up his old laptop, and by the time his tea was done steeping, he had all of his email checked. Tea mug situated on his left, he would always open up his Word document and “work” on his novel. Some days he managed to bang out a good two thousand words over a few hours, others he might stare at the blinking cursor in a daze as he sipped his tea. Considering how boring his day had been, Castiel was feeling utterly uninspired to write and decided upon editing this particular day. Taking a sip of his tea, he grimaced at the surprisingly cold temperature and glanced at the time. Well, maybe it shouldn’t have been so surprising; apparently, he’d been editing for over two hours. Pressing his palms to his eyes, he rubbed for several seconds and stretched. It quickly turned into one of those whole-body stretches that take over until you find yourself halfway melted out of your chair, and it ended with Castiel’s upper back resting on the seat, the rest of his body awkwardly kneeling on the floor. Sagging into it for a moment, he pictured what he must look like and almost had to laugh at the image. Twenty-seven years old, slumping under the kitchen table in his underwear with a “novel” above him, apartment noticeably bachelor-friendly. If he didn’t (mostly) enjoy his solitude, the imagery might have bothered him more. Before he could ponder it any further, he was startled by the buzz of his phone on the table and sat up hastily, banging his head on the underside of said table.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered as he rubbed gingerly at his head. Castiel fumbled blindly above him and grabbed the phone, not bothering to get back in his chair just yet. So what if he was feeling lazy? It was one hell of a blah day.

*** _1 Unread Message*_ **

_\--Sooo…youre not the blonde, are you?  6:19pm_

Castiel knew that it made no sense to continue this conversation with a confused pervert, but curiosity and a lack of anything better to do overruled his judgment.

**> >No, I’m not. Sorry to disappoint. Not a fan of punctuation, are we? 6:22pm**

_\--Srsly? Still correcting my texts?  Ass.  6:23pm_

**> >Been called worse. Shrugging at you.  6:23pm**

When no response came, Castiel crawled out from under the table, assuming that he’d dissuaded the pervert from wanting any more contact. He took his time making his dinner and eating it, taking a long shower, and messing around on the internet. Sleepy from the rains that day, he decided to lie down and put on his ‘night time’ playlist on the music player on his phone and mellow out into his own thoughts before going to sleep. Three notes in to one of Chopin’s Nocturnes, his phone buzzed. Without looking, he just knew that it had to be the mystery person. Deciding to ignore it, he was fully prepared to settle back in to his music, hoping the person would catch the hint, when the phone buzzed a second and then third time. Rolling his eyes to the empty room, he pulled out his ear phones and unlocked his phone.

*** _3 Unread Messages*_ **

_\--Who said I was disappointed? 10:32pm_

_\--Whoops, sorry, youre prolly asleep  10:34pm_

_\--I wasnt looking at the time. Ill leave you alone  10:34pm_

Castiel couldn’t help but grin at the apology and ran a hand over his face.

**> >I assumed you were hoping for the blonde, which I am definitely not. And I was not asleep.  10:35pm**

**> >Curious though, why do you keep texting me?  10:36pm**

_\--I guess cuz you keep texting back. You started it anyway.  10:37pm_

_\--So if not blonde, then what?  10:37pm_

**> >Dark brown, if you must know. But I suspect you to be a pervert, so don’t expect sexting.  10:39pm**

_\--Oh shit, you’re not jailbait, are you? Cuz srsly, not cool.  10:40pm_

Castiel grinned. Okay, so maybe the guy wasn’t a total creep. He was assuming this was a man, anyway, considering the use of the term ‘jailbait’.

**> >No, very much so an adult.  10:41pm**

_\--Good. But who uses the word pervert anymore? And I’m not one, anyway. Not much >;)  10:43pm_

**> >Still flirting? You are insufferable. You don’t even know anything about me…age, gender, nothing!  10:45pm**

_\--Whatever. Flirting’s fun. And I’m guessing...man.  10:46pm_

**> >You got me.  10:46pm**

_\--Is that sarcasm? 10:47pm_

**> >No.   10:47pm**

_\--Ugh. I still can’t tell, you asshat.  10:48pm_

Castiel chuckled at his phone and his ability to aggravate this person without even knowing them. Realizing that he had the upper hand in the conversation, Castiel felt a sudden desire to tease this person and typed out one last message.

**> >Ha! Well I need to go to bed. Goodnight, Pervert.  10:50pm**

_\--I’m sighing very loudly. Night night, Stranger.  10:51pm_

Still not sure why he had decided to continue talking to this random person, Castiel shook his head at himself and set the alarm before putting the phone on his nightstand. Figuring it had been better entertainment than lying in the dark listening to classical music (and possibly feeling a bit like Philip J. Fry), Castiel shrugged off his own behavior and considered the possibility that if nothing else, maybe it could contribute to his novel. Snorting to himself at the very idea, he rolled over and snuggled into the comforter, knowing good and damned well this was just another one of those random instances in his life, nothing more. Hopefully, Wednesday wouldn’t have him feeling so…disjointed.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“No, you asshole! She isn’t cheating on you, she’s pregnant! Pregnant chicks act weird!” Dean threw his hands up in the air as he shouted at the television. Doctor Sexy was pissing him off by jumping to conclusions and the consideration of cheating on his girlfriend. He realized how loud he was being and looked around his empty apartment, as if someone might magically materialize to make fun of him. Dean shook his head at himself and leaned back in his seat, only to be startled by a knock at the door. Given his small group of friends and family, he had come to recognize each of their knocks, and this one was unfamiliar. Shit, someone must have heard him hollering, and not even about something manly, like football or hockey.

Answering the door, Dean wasn’t sure whether to be happy or not. On the upside, there were two incredibly hot, although clearly only barely past drinking age, chicks on his doorstep. On the downside, they quite possibly might have heard him yelling at Dr. Sexy. The brunette, who exuded charisma and energy, smiled broadly and gave a little wave with one hand, and held out some sort of small potted plant with the other.

“Hi there! I’m Bree, and this is Roxy.” Bree gestured to the blonde next to her, who was quietly giving Dean a wicked smolder, full of naughty promises. Roxy reminded Dean of a panther, observant and predatory, subdued and smooth in her movements even as she only extended her hand.

“We just moved in a few doors down and are greeting our new neighbors. What’s your name, handsome?” Roxy’s voice was silky and deep.

Dean flashed a winning grin, choosing to pretend that they hadn’t heard his outburst and extended his own hand. “Dean Winchester. Bree…Roxy…nice to meet you, and welcome to the neighborhood.” Then he figured he might as well do what he does best and grabbed for a piece of paper and a pen. “I happen to be pretty handy,” he gave an innuendo-filled eyebrow lift, “so if you need anything, just give me a call.” Dean then wrote down his number and handed it out, the blonde reaching to grab it first and smirking.

“Thank you, Dean. We’ll see you around, Sweetcheeks,” Roxy purred. Bree whipped her head around at her roommate and rolled her eyes, trying to convey to Dean that the blonde didn’t normally talk like that. Roxy shrugged, and the two women walked over to the next apartment.

Dean closed his door and chuckled, not quite sure what to make of what just happened. By the look on the brunette’s face, he was pretty sure that her cat-like roommate was trying much harder than normal and he grinned that a girl so smokin’ would feel the need to try and impress him. Shaking his head, he sat the plant down at the kitchen table and went back to the couch to resume his show, and was relieved to see that no one ended up cheating by the end of the episode. It was a rare day off for Dean, and he wasn’t quite sure exactly how he wanted to spend it, but he was pretty sure that molding on the couch wasn’t it. He was making his way to the shower when his phone beeped with a new text. Unlocking his phone, it was from a number he’d never seen before and was surprised at the message he’d received. The only person he could think of that might possibly send a naughty text with an unknown number was the blonde, so he decided to play along with it. Sure, it wasn’t his best dirty talk, but he figured generic was the best way to go until he got a feel for what this woman liked. And then…it suddenly wasn’t so sexy. Having his spelling corrected, okay, but the fact that this was clearly meant to be sent to some dude named Joshua, well, that was just embarrassing. If it was the blonde, that just struck her off his list, texting random dudes and not even seeming all that apologetic about the mix up. Frowning, Dean got in the shower and decided to shrug it off, knowing that he didn’t really have to see his neighbor, anyway; he wasn’t exactly a social butterfly.

After a trip to the grocery store and errands around town, Dean came back home and decided to do a little picking up, after discovering that his home had taken on a mystery smell. Amazing what you don’t notice until you leave and come back. Against his earlier decision, Dean found himself thinking about ego-bruising texts from earlier and decided he needed closure. Once the place was as clean as it was going to get, Dean sat down to text the stranger, pleased to see that he had been wrong about their identity. However, what he hadn’t expected was for this stranger to be such a smartass, and he grinned at the strange interaction, virtual shrug and all.

For the second time that day, an unexpected knock came at Dean’s door, but this was one was very familiar. Worried as to why his brother would come over without calling first, Dean strode quickly to answer the door.

“Sammy? What’s wrong?” Dean’s eyes darted over his brother from head-to-toe, as if expecting mortal wounds.

Sam scoffed and shook his head with a grin. “I know you’re getting old, but geez Dean, memory loss much?”

Seeing that nothing was wrong with his overgrown little brother, Dean frowned at the jibe before remembering that they had had plans. “Yeah, well, my fossilized ass is hungry, so get in here already and we’ll get some grub ordered.”

With a pat to Dean’s shoulder, Sam crossed the threshold and made his way into the kitchen to help himself to a beer. “Sooo…is someone else coming over later?”

“No? Why?”

Sam made a sweeping gesture meant to encompass the kitchen and adjoining living room. “You cleaned, and I know you didn’t do that for me.” He tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the hope from showing on his face, that his brother might be gaining more people in his life and not hiding in his work.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “You’re right. I cleaned because it was messy.”

Sam adopted his ‘I’m not sure if I’m buying your shit’ face and stared at his older brother until he saw that Dean was telling the truth. Then his eyes softened, and Dean knew what was coming. “Dean, how many hours did you put in this week?”

“Oh come on, we’ve been through this, Sam. You know that I have to put the hours in…it’s _my_ garage! It’s not like I can just run on bankers’ hours; that’s not how it works.” Dean picked up his phone and opened up his contacts, searching for the pizza place and hoping to cut off the conversation.

“But look, would it really be that bad of an idea to hire someone to take some of the hours?” Sam was at the edges of making the puppy face. “I’m just worried about you, that’s all. You’re going to work yourself into the ground, and you’re only 30, Dean. And when’s the last time you went out and just did something fun? Because I’m going to guess that you’ve spent your day off watching crappy TV dramas and loafing around.”

Of course Sam was right, and it only served to make Dean feel kind of lame. “Yeah, well, if I hadn’t been home, I wouldn’t have met the two chicks that moved in a couple doors down. I’m pretty sure they’re a package deal, if you know what I mean.” Dean waggled his eyebrows suggestively and grinned.

Sam rolled his eyes and smirked. “So in other words, they’re some of the only people you’ve talked to outside of work lately.”

“Hey! I talk to people.” As soon as he said it, Dean realized that the only person he could think of was his mystery texter and decided to end this conversation for real this time. No way in hell was he going to try and explain that one, because it could only end up making him sound even more ridiculous. “Now, let’s get this pizza ordered. You want the usual?”

Knowing that Dean was officially done talking about it for the night, Sam let it go and nodded. Once the pizza was ordered, the brothers spent the next thirty minutes deciding on what movie to watch and discussing Sam’s day.

“Oh! That reminds me, I got you something! I’ll be right back.” Sam strode quickly out the door to retrieve the gift for his brother. Walking back in, he held the bag out in front of him. “I wanted to get you something for your shop, to say congrats on getting it all official now.”

Dean reached for the gift bag and was surprised by its weight, until he got a grip on the item inside. Pulling out one of the heaviest books he’d ever held, Dean’s lips curled slowly into a bright smile. “This is awesome, man. Where’d you find it?” He already had the book open, flipping through the thick pages full of illustrations and pictures of beautiful classic cars.

“Well, I decided to drop by that mom n’ pop down the block from my office. Between the Lines, I think? Anyway, the guy went right to it, first thing he pulled off the shelf.” Sam was still amused at the coincidence, considering that he’d almost given up on finding this particular book after nearly ten unsuccessful attempts at finding a copy.

Dean was still grinning when he put the book down next to him on the couch. “Thanks, Sammy. It’ll go in the waiting area first thing tomorrow.”

Dean had bought the garage and adjoining salvage yard from their family friend, Bobby Singer, when the old man decided he was ready to retire two months ago. Having worked there for nearly ten years, Dean already knew how to run the place and had even made a name for himself over the years in classic car restorations. In those two months, Dean had taken on three new restorations and two more were on a waiting list, in addition to the regular repair and maintenance jobs that came through. Although he already had three other mechanics on staff, Sam was right in that Dean could use another set of hands if the restorations were going to keep popping up.

The pizza arrived shortly and the rest of the night was spent eating and watching The Boondock Saints, the Winchester brothers eyeing each other in amusement at the interactions of the brothers on screen. Sam left at around 10:15, hassling Dean one more time to hire someone as he walked out the door. He agreed to consider it and Sam gave him one last pleading look before getting in his own car and pulling out of the driveway.

Dean grabbed another beer and flopped back down on the couch, thinking about Sam’s suggestion. It’s not that Dean couldn’t afford to hire someone; this wasn’t about the business end of it all. This was about having to learn to trust someone new with his business, which was in a way, his name. Plus, people really just weren’t Dean’s thing, and the thought of having to go through interviews and all that mess was just utterly unappealing. Sure, he could charm and flirt with the best of them off the clock, but when it came to his work, Dean was much more inclined toward a surliness that was reserved for things and people he considered to be his territory. This train of thought reminded him of a certain anonymous smartass and he picked up his phone.

Dean reviewed the previous texts and decided to pick up where the conversation had left off, because if nothing else, he was curious. Surprisingly, the stranger answered him back, even though it was getting late for a weeknight. After a brief moment of worry this might not be a legal adult, Dean was relieved to find out that this was indeed “very much an adult”. Honestly, this person spoke strangely in a way that had been extremely unlikely to have been someone underage, anyway. Who uses a word like ‘insufferable’ in a text? Dean’s first thought was ‘nerdy dude’ and then ‘middle-aged woman’. After some unsuccessful baiting for more information, Dean realized that this was going to drive him crazy, not knowing anything; the little shit was being cryptic. The conversation had lasted longer than expected, so Dean wasn’t surprised when the stranger announced their intent to get off the phone.

**> >Ha! Well I need to go to bed. Goodnight, Pervert.  10:50pm**

Wait a second. They capitalized the word ‘pervert’. Did this person just give him a pet name? Is that a challenge of some sort to talk again sometime? Dean let out an exasperated sigh and replied in turn.

_\--I’m sighing very loudly. Night night, Stranger.  10:51pm_

With a smile on his lips, Dean locked his phone and headed to bed. As he crawled under the covers, he decided that he wasn’t going to let himself think about the conversation too much or he’d never fall asleep, trying to pick it all apart like a puzzle to figure something out about this person. Dean Winchester had never been one to back down from a challenge and wasn’t about to start, even if it was something as silly as a silent conversation partner. ‘Oh, it’s on,’ was the last coherent thought to enter Dean’s head before drifting off to sleep.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

As he had hoped, Wednesday was turning out to be much better for Castiel. The sun was out, there was a nice breeze, and there was plenty to keep him busy. The local schools had just let out for the summer, so Castiel had taken it upon himself make sure that they had all of the most popular titles from the reading lists on hand. Unfortunately, the store’s owner had elected to avoid a computerized inventory (cheap bastard), so tasks of this nature had to be done by hand, going to the shelf and making notes. It was tedious, but it also kept him busy and away from having to deal with too many customers, so Castiel didn’t complain.

Deeply focused on his project, Castiel hadn’t noticed the time, and was surprised when Gabriel walked over, clearly on his way out for the day.

“Alright, I’m heading out, but Jo’s in the break room setting her stuff down and will be out in a minute. There’s still two carts needing to be priced, but you two can get that done pretty easy. Oh! And Chuck’s in the back tonight on sorting, but I wouldn’t pull him out on the floor unless it gets too busy. Pretty sure he’s hungover.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “What else is new? But I think me and Jo will be fine. See you tomorrow.”

With a quick wave, Gabriel was out the door and a moment later Jo was walking over.

“Hey. Starting the reading list stuff already?” Jo pointed at the bundle of papers in Castiel’s hand.

“Yeah, but I think I’m about to stop for the day. We’re going to be spending a bit of the night pricing, and the list doesn’t have to be done tonight.” Castiel made a couple of marks on one sheet and capped his pen as they walked toward the front of the store.

Jo groaned at the library cart full of children’s books. “Jesus, always with the kids’ books when I’m here. I hate putting-“ After a brief pause and a discreet head nod toward Castiel’s left, she simply continued in a slightly exaggerated tone, as if in the middle of an exciting story, “meanwhile…”

Castiel looked over in the indicated direction to see a guy in his mid-twenties picking up a book on photography. Jo and Castiel had discovered early on into their working relationship that they shared similar tastes in men and had somehow worked out that they needed a discreet code word for alerting each other to the presence of an attractive person. Sure, it may be unprofessional to check out the customers, but Jo had gotten more than one date out of it, and Castiel found it to be another way to pass the time on slow days.

“Why don’t you go see if he needs any help?” Castiel grinned at Jo, knowing she had a weakness for the quiet types. With a devious smile, the petite blonde made her way over to the customer, who immediately got flustered when she pulled out her best flirty look. Judging by the shy smile and blush on the guy’s cheeks, there was a good chance that Jo might be successful with this one, and Castiel chuckled as he returned to his task. The ‘meanwhile’ wasn’t always about flirting; sometimes it was just to acknowledge a fine specimen walking around in their little store, considering how rarely it happened; the store mostly seemed to attract people old enough to be their parents and harried school teacher types. Jo was convinced that it had to do with the lack of an adjoining or even nearby coffee shop, and Castiel couldn’t help but agree.

Returning a few minutes later, Jo simply grinned and nodded as she held out her palm, phone number neatly scrawled on it. “His name’s Lee, and it looks like I’m going to play trivia tonight at Grady’s. Now let’s just hope my mom doesn’t find out that I’m going to someone else’s bar.” Jo made her ‘sorry-not sorry’ face and shrugged. Castiel’s text alert went off from his pocket, and Jo went back to pricing her pile, knowing that the conversation was pretty much over, anyway.

“Do you mind if I take my lunch now? I don’t think it should get busy for another hour.”

Jo raised a brow and glanced at the phone in Castiel’s hand, but made no comment on it. “Yeah, I’ll hold the fort down, go get some grub.”

Castiel said his thanks and went in the break room, knowing he wasn’t going to get much eating done.

***

Dean stretched in his office chair, relishing the pops that went off along his spine. Paperwork was a necessary evil, and he’d been at it for an hour, nearly done with the work day. Deciding it was a good time to take a break, he took out his phone.

_\--Hey Stranger. Whatcha doin?   5:27 pm_

**> >Hello, Pervert. I’m at work, contemplating my lunch options.   5:28pm**

_\--Pick the one that you’ll need utensils to eat.   5:30pm_

**> >Why?   5:30pm**

_\--So you can talk to me while youre on break without getting your phone all messy.   5:32pm_

When no reply came for several minutes, Dean bit his lip, certain that he’d been overly presumptuous and creeped this person out. Then came the buzz.

**> >Salad it is, then. Rather presumptuous of you to think that I have nothing else to do on my lunch, though, isn’t it?   5:40pm**

Dean snorted at the word choice, having just thought it himself, and wondered what kind of person would take the time to type out ‘presumptuous’ in a text. This person must be stubborn and very patient, if they regularly refuse to conform to shortened phrasing and spelling. This must be someone who either holds language in high regard, or is uncomfortable with technology. Perhaps both.

_\--Maybe. But you are still talking to me, huh?  5:42pm_

**> >Touche.   5:43pm**

**> >I suppose you could tell me what you’re doing, now.   5:44pm**

Grinning, Dean congratulated himself for getting this person at least a little interested in talking to him.

_\--On break from paperwork. Talking to some nerdy dude ;)   5:45pm_

**> >What makes you think I’m nerdy?   5:47pm**

\-- _Aha! So you really are a dude. Youre all proper with your texts, that’s why.   5:48pm_

**> >Guilty on all counts, I guess. Also pretty certain that you are male, and FYI, I’m not judging you for being a dork.   5:50pm**

_\--I am not a dork. I’m awesome. Where did you get dork from? And I can hear you smirking so stop your shit.   5:52pm_

Dean realized after sending the message that it might have sounded more indignant than he meant it to, and frowned as he anticipated the reply.

**> >Ha! You must be very talented, to hear my smirk. How are you a dork? Emoticons, phrasing, still talking to a complete stranger...   5:53pm**

_\--Heh…I am very talented.   5:54pm_

**> >…and generic dirty talk. Suggests that you’re uncomfortable with it, so probably don’t do it very often. Take it as you please.   5:56pm**

**> >I have to go, my lunch is almost over. Goodbye, Pervert ;)   5:56pm**

_\--Later Stranger. You smartass.   5:57pm_

_\--insert rolling eyes here.   5:59pm_

Leaning back in his chair, Dean looked up at the ceiling, rolling his eyes for real this time. Did this dude seriously insult his flirtations and call him a prude? Or maybe it was an insinuation about anxiety? Whatever. Dean had zero problems warming his bed when he wanted to. Straightening up in his seat, Dean snorted at the idea of being a prude and went back to his paperwork, ready to finish up and get out for the day. The thought that not just his brother, but also a stranger was picking up on his recent lack of social interactions was nagging at Dean until he made the decision that he’d go to The Roadhouse after work. Maybe if he had witnesses that he was trying, the gossip train would run with it and everyone would leave him alone.

Three hours and a shower later, Dean was sitting at the bar and sipping a scotch as he listened to Jo Harvelle bitch about her botched date, after helping herself to drinks for the both of them. Okay, so maybe this isn’t the kind of socializing that Dean had hoped for, but he hadn’t seen Jo in ages and it was good to catch up with an old friend.

“I mean, sure the cat thing was weird, but why ask someone on a date to a bar when you don’t even drink? Like that’s not gonna make me feel judged at every sip.” Jo gulped down the last swig of her beer, as if in defiance of her strange date.

Dean chuckled and shook his head. “I really don’t know how you manage to draw all the weirdos, man. No offense.”

“She doesn’t draw them, she hunts them down. Doesn’t have the patience to wait for ‘em to ask her out.” Ellen Harvelle strolled over to them and leaned on the other side of the counter. “Where you been, Winchester? Haven’t seen you in a while.” Ellen was giving Dean her ‘concerned mother’ look that could end either in a hug or a slap on the back of his head.

“Hey Ellen. You know, just working and all that.” Dean shrugged and took a sip of his drink. “I promise I haven’t been going to someone else’s bar.” He grinned and Ellen rolled her eyes dramatically at him.

“Boy, you know I’m not worried about that. But how’s business? The way Bobby was talking, it sounds like you’ve got a pretty good thing going with all the restorations.” Ellen reached across the bar to rest a hand on his forearm and Dean knew it was coming. Of course Bobby would tell Ellen about the swell in new customers, and there was no escaping the woman when she had her mind on something. Considering it was only Wednesday, the bar was pretty dead and Dean knew that he wouldn’t be fortunate enough to see her get distracted with other customers. After a few minutes of Ellen’s mother-henning, Dean excused himself to the restroom, pulling out his phone when he got in there.

_\--Dude. I need you to do me a solid.   9:15pm_

After a couple minutes with no response, Dean knew that he was quickly running out of time before his trip would look suspicious and was trying his best to will the phone to buzz back at him. Even so, it surprised him when it actually did. 

**> >What do you need?   9:17pm**

_\--Can you text me here in about ten minutes? Ran into family, need an out.   9:17pm_

**> >Bad plan. Oldest trick since people started using cell phones.   9:18pm**

_\--Well shit, what do I do?   9:18pm_

_\--Wait. What if you text something that will get a genuine reaction so they know I’m not acting?   9:19pm_

**> >Fine. But don’t blame me if it doesn’t work.   9:19pm**

_\--THANK YOU. IOU.   9:19pm_

When Dean exited the bathroom, Ellen was still propped up at the counter, laughing at something Jo had said and shaking her head. The Roadhouse was still empty except for a couple of older guys that were pretty much fixtures at the other end of the bar, and Dean was glad that he’d set up his escape. Especially when both Jo and Ellen started back in on his personal life once he was seated again. Dean knew that everyone’s concern was coming from a good place, but having to get it from three different people in 24 hours was a bit much. He should’ve known better than to come here if he wanted to avoid discussing his apparent failure at being human, but it just honestly hadn’t crossed his mind that Bobby would be talking about him. The fact that he’d overlooked something so obvious only served to validate everyone’s concern and it irritated him to no end.

“I know you’re still grieving for your daddy, but you can’t burn the candle at both ends doing it, Dean. You’ll follow right behind him if you don’t take care of yourself,” Ellen said the last part more gently.

Dean’s jaw tensed and he looked down into his drink as if it were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. It had been six months since John Winchester had been killed in a car accident, and Dean had used what little assets the man had left to him to help buy Bobby’s garage. It’s not that Dean had been particularly close to John; their relationship had been complicated. However, it was still his father, and Dean felt the unintentional abandonment like something had been ripped away from him. So why not fill the hole with work? It kept his mind and his hands busy as well as earning him a more stable life. Dean was grateful that his phone buzzed before his mood could spiral any further.

**> >In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Now frown in confusion.   9:33pm**

No problem there, Dean was already frowning in confusion.

_\--Uh…is that an exorcism or something?  9:34pm_

**> >Pfft. No.    9:34pm**

Sticking his phone back in his pocket, Dean stood up and grabbed his wallet out, laying down more than enough to cover his tab. “Sorry to cut it short, but I gotta go, ladies.”

Both women looked at him skeptically, so he furrowed his brow even further. “What? Everything’s fine, it’s just a friend. They locked their keys in their car, and I owe them a favor.”

“Well, take care Dean, and I better start seeing you here once a week, you hear me?” Ellen cocked an expectant eyebrow at him.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Dean relented.

Jo grabbed him by the elbow on his way past and pulled him back to get a quick hug out of him. “We’ve missed you, man.”

Dean gave a tight-lipped grin and nod and turned to walk out, letting out a deep breath on his way out the door. He hated that he felt relieved to get away from the people that cared about him, using deceit to do it, no less. The guilt started flaring up, and Dean cranked up the stereo as he pulled out of the parking lot. After a couple minutes, the noise was too much and he turned the music back off. The quiet turned out to be just as oppressive though, and Dean felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin. He’d been doing just fine before everyone started prying, goddammit. Ignoring his grief and stress had become an art. It’s not that Dean was content by any means, but at least he’d been busy enough to have a good excuse to avoid being around everyone he knew. He just couldn’t take the sympathetic looks and pity; it made him feel weak.

Before he realized what he was doing, he had the phone in his hand and was pressing ‘call’ under Stranger’s contact entry. The moment the other end started to ring, Dean felt a flash of self-consciousness at such a creeper move, but realized that it was too late to hang up now. Caller ID doesn’t lie, so the damage was already done; his throat started to tighten at the second ring. On the third ring, he shuddered when the line picked up.

“Hello, Pervert.”

Jesus fucking Christ, what was that voice? It was all sun-warmed gravel and whiskey and sex with a hint of smile in it. Something about it had him feeling calmer already and his own smile started to creep up on his lips.

“Hey, Stranger.”

Dean heard a deep chuckle on the other end of the line and his shoulders relaxed a tad. “So, uh, just wanted to say thanks, it was getting kind of tense in there. I don’t text and drive, so I thought I’d call. Honestly, I was starting to feel like a huge creeper, but I guess everything’s cool or you wouldn’t have answered and all.” Dean groaned internally at his own babbling.

“You’re welcome. And you are a huge creeper.”

Dean sputtered and laughed nervously. “Well fine then. I guess we can fix that one of two ways. Either I hang up and swear to leave you alone, or we exchange names like normal people and have an actual conversation.” A silence stretched out for a beat too long to not be awkward, and Dean was worried that he was about to be told to fuck off.

“Okay. I don’t quite want to tell you my real name yet though, sorry.”

Dean sighed softly and thought for a moment. “Alright, Angel, I understand,” he said with a teasing lilt at the word ‘angel’. He wasn’t expecting the warm laughter and it sent a shiver down his spine.

“Only a very secure man can call another man ‘Angel’, you know,” the voice said with what was definitely an audible smirk this time.

Dean scoffed at the other man’s tone. “Please, I’m plenty secure.” He hoped he sounded more confident than his mood was, because he really **really** liked the voice on the other end of the phone line.

“Hmmm…well, I suppose I’m fine with being called that. What about you?”

“Chief. Because of reasons,” Dean added quickly. Explaining that it was the meaning of his name would totally defeat the purpose of an alias, after all.

The other man laughed lightly. “I’m not going to argue it with you. But I do have a question. Do you have a smarmy mustache to go with that name?”

“See, you’re making fun. I said ‘because of reasons’, dammit! And no, I don’t have a mustache. I’m more of a ‘let’s rock the scruff’ kind of guy. What about you? I bet you’re that nerd with a hard-on for sweater vests.”

Angel snorted. “Hardly. I’m no Carlton Banks, if that’s what you’re imagining.”

“How could you possibly know that?” Dean was surprised, to say the least.

“Wild guess. According to your word choice, I’m assuming that you are somewhere between 25 and 35 years old, but probably closer to 30. I’m 27, and you speak like the majority of people in my age group.”

“Huh. Well, good job Sherlock. I really am 30.” Dean let out a dramatic ‘phew’ sound. “You have no idea how glad I am that you’re not some dude old enough to be my dad. Well, unless you were Robert Downey Jr.”

“Now Chief, we all know that Robert Downey Jr. is appealing to all ages and therefore doesn’t count.” Angel hummed softly, but it almost sounded more like a purr. “Like fine wine.”

It was Dean’s turn to laugh now and he guffawed at the admission. “So I guess you’re pretty secure in yourself too, then?”

“Are you asking my sexual orientation?”

“Jeez, dude! Way to cut through the bullshit, huh? But uh, yeah, I guess I’m curious,” Dean said carefully. He was really starting to feel like a jackass now, sounding so pushy. “It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it or whatever,” he offered.

“It’s fine,” Angel said quietly. “I haven’t chosen one…I’m not fond of labeling myself. It feels like a label would make everything final, and that seems too…confining. Does this make you uncomfortable?”

Dean thought the guy sounded worried and it bothered him to hear that uncertainty for some reason. “No, not at all! I mean, I’m Bi myself, so definitely not homophobic, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh. Well, not really. I assumed you weren’t, according to your flippant attitude during our first bout of texting. I just know that some people are uncomfortable with the notion of talking to someone who is undefined," Angel said with a resigned sigh.

A moment later, Dean could hear a kettle start to whistle in the background and was glad for the distraction. Because seriously, since when does Dean Winchester go around discussing sexual orientation with random strangers? Maybe their friendship, or whatever this was, began with unsolicited sexual posturing, but Angel had made it clear that he wasn’t into what Dean had started. “So, I assume you’re getting ready to settle in for the night. I mean, you’re making tea, right?”

With a distracted ‘mmmhmmm’ mumbled over the noise of a digital timer being set, Dean started to feel guilty for taking over this guy’s night. Pulling into his parking space, Dean turned off his headlights and leaned forward, resting his forehead on the steering wheel. “Alright, well I’ll hop off of here and quit pestering you. Sorry I keep doing that with the phone.”

Dean heard a small sigh from the other man before he responded with fond exasperation. “You may be tenacious, but you’ve hardly been a pest. It’s been…pleasant.” Angel said the last word as if it surprised him.

Dean knew he was grinning, but he couldn’t help it. “Well thanks man, I’m glad! Off-topic though, I do have one thing to say, before I get off of here. My dirty talk was generic because I didn’t know who I was talking to. I was just testing the waters, that’s all.”

Angel snorted rather loudly. “Oh-kay,” he said exaggeratedly. “Well, it still doesn’t make you any less of a dork.”

“Pffft. And you’re still kind of an asshat, but I like you anyway. Night night, Angel.”

“Goodnight Chief, I’ll talk to you later.”

Both men hung up and looked at their phones, miles apart, wondering what in the hell had just happened. Castiel groaned out loud that he’d implied that they would talk again, certain he had sounded desperate. Dean however, just grinned in the darkness of his car, glad that he wasn’t the only one that could use a friend.


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel was in the middle of handling a rather demanding customer when his phone buzzed in his pocket. The woman gave him a condescending look at the noise, as if it were a personal affront to her, the phone buzzing to interrupt her specifically. Castiel carried on as if nothing had happened, determined to get her out of the store quickly. Of course he rolled his eyes as soon as she exited the store and pulled out his phone to view the message.

_\--You live in Lawrence, right? I mean…just going by your area code.  2:40pm_

**> >Yes, I do. Why?  2:48pm**

_\--Well, don’t go to that new sandwich shop on third. The lady is fucking rude and they don’t have pie.  2:49pm_

**> >Thank you for the warning. Although is pie all that important?   2:51pm**

_\--YES. What the hell kind of question is that? Please tell me you have taste buds.   2:53pm_

**> >No, I eat paper. ::sighing:: Pie is fine, though I prefer ice cream.  2:54pm**

_\--Just checking you're not some cake eating heathen.   2:54pm_

Castiel chuckled to himself as he put the phone back in his pocket. He could feel Gabriel staring at him, but chose to ignore it and went back to tallying his reading list titles. Gabriel, of course, wouldn’t let him off that easy.

“So, did I actually just see you texting…for fun? I didn’t know that you knew how to do that,” he said with a cocky grin.

“Yes, well, you may be surprised to find out that there’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Castiel was really hoping that Gabriel wouldn’t call his bluff, because Castiel knew good and damned well that Gabriel was aware of what he did every night. Castiel knew he could give off an air of mystery, but not quite that much.

Raising an eyebrow, Gabriel tilted his head. “Aaaaaaand…I’m calling bullshit. So who is it? Come on, spill it!” Gabriel rubbed his hands together greedily, and Castiel was briefly reminded of Templeton on the Charlotte’s Web movie.

“Just a friend,” Castiel said curtly.

“Really. Because your face was grinning all flirtily at the phone. But whatever.” Gabriel put his hands up and shrugged. “So does this friend of yours have a name?”

Castiel quirked an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “I was not grinning ‘flirtatiously’ at the phone,” he said, putting extra emphasis on the correct word.

“Pfft, you know what I meant, don’t change the subject.” Gabriel was downright smirking. Pushy little shit.

Unsure of how to answer the name question, Castiel swallowed. He knew if he took too long though, it would raise more questions. Truth it is. “Chief.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened and he hooted in amusement. “That’s a total Dom name!”

“What?” Castiel had NOT been expecting that. Where did Gabriel get that? Oh. Oh god.

“What?” Gabriel responded quickly, voice going a little too high at the end. He then cleared his throat and looked away as an awkward silence fell between them.

Castiel decided he really didn’t want to linger on where that train of thought was going, because there are some things you really just don’t want to know about your boss. So of course, now that he tried to ban the thought, it wouldn’t leave. Shaking his head as if it could work like an etch-a-sketch, Castiel looked back at his manager.

“Well, as long as you aren’t sexting during your shift, have fun!” Gabriel turned on his heel, just as ready to be away from the conversation as Castiel was for him to be gone. Because really, Castiel never wanted to know about Gabriel’s proclivities, and now he was left (unfortunately) wondering whether he was the Dom or the Sub. A shudder ran down Castiel’s spine as the image of a leather-clad Gabriel materialized in his mind and he pulled out his phone.

**> >I think I might need brain bleach. Help!   3:06pm**

_\--Dr. Phil with nipple tassels ;D    3:09pm_

Castiel felt his stomach lurch.

**> >You, sir, are an asshole.   3:10pm**

_\--Bwahaha! Love you too, Angel :*   3:11pm_

**> >Newt Gingrich bent over in a G-string.  ::blows kisses::   3:15pm**

_\--Aw fuck dude. Not cool.   3:15pm_

Castiel cackled a little and put his phone back in his pocket, shaking his head. He was pretty sure this wasn’t over, but assumed that Chief was still at work and that the conversation was dead for now. Finishing up his project an hour later, Castiel moved to the windows with a cart of books, ready to switch out the displays. Jo had clocked in and was looking tired, staring at nothing in particular by the register. Then she looked up toward the door and Castiel turned his head to follow her line of sight.

Quite possibly the most beautiful man that Castiel had ever seen was walking into their store. At this point, even if Castiel had been standing right next to her, the ‘meanwhile’ would've been unnecessary; it was implicit by the sheer attractiveness of this man. Castiel settled for catching Jo’s eye briefly, as the man walked straight up to her. She smiled at the man, but it wasn’t her normal flirtatious eye-batting smile, and Castiel couldn’t figure out what to make of that. After all, the guy was tall and toned, with a bone structure that practically had “Greek God” scrawled across his form. Even his bow-legs were appealing, somehow. Castiel couldn’t hear the man’s question, but Jo had come from around the register and grabbed the man by the bicep, leading him toward the business section. Okay, so this was someone she knew. Looking at it objectively though, he supposed that between the likelihood that the man was 100% straight and the fact that he wasn’t Castiel’s usual type, it made sense that Jo had never mentioned him. Shrugging it off as yet another pointless daydream, Castiel went back to working on his displays, but keeping an eye on Jo’s acquaintance as he wound around the shelves.

By the time the man was rung up and walking out, Castiel was working at the edge of the window near the door. Of course he happened to glance up just in time to look into some of the most intensely green and beautifully-shaped eyes he’d ever seen, and the full lips below them curling into a flirty smirk as the man walked out. Castiel quirked an eyebrow and tried to look unmoved, but was certain that the blush creeping up his cheeks was quickly about to negate it, and turned back to his display. Because of course, the most sensible thing to do when someone looks at you like that is pretend to not care. Castiel knew that he looked like an ass and let out a sigh. Why did he have go overboard on trying not to visibly swoon? Shit. His one small comfort was that if he had to look like an ass, at least he looked good doing it. Waking up in a good mood, Castiel had dressed accordingly and opted for his tighter dark jeans, charcoal waistcoat, light grey button-up rolled to the elbow, and deep purple tie. Generally speaking, Castiel dressed according to his mood, rather than occasion, so it was easy to tell how he was feeling the moment he walked in most days. Until thirty seconds ago, he was feeling confident.

Jo helped another customer and then bee-lined for Castiel. “So I guess you liked what you saw, huh?” She gave him a friendly wink and put one hand on her hip.

“Who was that?” he asked with as nonchalant a face as he could muster.

“That was my friend, Dean. I grew up with him and his brother, Sam…I guess you’d say they’re kind of like my older brothers. Long story short, family friends that have kind of ended up being more like just family.”

Castiel took that as Jo’s way of saying that she had no interest in Dean and nodded. “Well, your family is absurdly attractive.”

Jo laughed and shook her head. “You know, it never really occurred to me until now, but I actually think you two would get along pretty well…”

Castiel shook his head hard, cutting her off. “Oh no you don’t! You’re not playing matchmaker or setting me up on any kind of mortifying blind date. I’m perfectly good at embarrassing myself without anyone’s help. Besides, I’m pretty certain he isn’t into men,” Castiel said firmly.

“Um, why so certain?” Jo asked with a smug look on her face.

“Well, because…look at him. All-American, well-practiced swagger, plaid. He was wearing flannel and work boots, for god sakes.”

“Look dude, I’m not gonna lie. Dean has never once advertised interest in guys. But. That doesn’t change the fact that I’ve seen with my own eyes, him check out one too many dudes and flirt with a few, to be completely straight. I would put money down that he’s bi. I’m just sayin’, he’s available, and he was checking you out too.” Jo shrugged innocently. “I’ve got his number, any time you want it.”

“Thank you for the offer, but I think I’m going to pass. I’m not exactly comfortable with being set up.”

Jo patted Castiel on the shoulder and squeezed one good time for emphasis. “That’s cool, but you have no idea what you’re missing. Dean’s a really great guy. One of those that the outside kind of matches the inside, you know?” She smiled softly and walked off as the store phone rang.

Well fuck. Castiel really was curious, but there was no way he wanted to get involved with a co-worker’s family. If they were to hang out and didn’t like each other, that would make things incredibly awkward for Jo, so this was not an option. Also, something was niggling at him that somehow it felt kind of wrong. Castiel knew it was ridiculous, all things considered, but he felt like he would be doing a disservice to Chief somehow. Shaking his head at himself, Castiel looked at his phone and sighed. At least he was nearly off work. He’d opened the store that morning and suddenly was more than ready to go home. If nothing else, he now had a better visual for one the characters in his book and needed to do some editing. Not like this Dean guy would ever know, anyway.

***

“So, did you think about my suggestion?” Sam’s voice brought Dean out from under a hood and he frowned at his younger brother.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work doing important lawyer stuff?”

Sam shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Taking a late lunch, thought I’d stop by here before I have to head back.”

Dean walked over to the nearest tool bench for a rag and wiped his hands off. “Yeah, I thought about it.”

When Dean made no move to say anything else, Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. Dean cut him off before he could start. “Look, it’s not that I’m not aware of the need. I just…Sam, people aren’t really my thing, okay?”

“Well, why don’t you do some research? You do know that there are books for things like this, right?” Sam teased warmly. “I bet Jo could help you out. She’s working at the store I got you the car book from.”

Dean considered this and looked down at his hands. He really had no desire to see Jo after last night, but he also knew that she would be helpful and wouldn’t try to start one of those talks while she was at work. “Fine. I’ll stop by, but only if you promise not to nag me about it anymore. And…” Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket, cutting off what he was going to say. His face brightened when he saw the message, and couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease the guy who apparently had an image he didn’t want in his head; call it part of his personality linked to being an older brother. Sam watched curiously as his brother’s demeanor shifted while he texted. To Sam’s knowledge, Dean didn’t really have any friends and texting with a one-nighter was unheard of. He was startled out of his thoughts when Dean suddenly hollered out “Dude! Not fucking cool!” and made a gagging sound before putting his phone away, eyes lit with amusement.

Sam raised his brows. “Who was that?”

“No one man, don’t worry about it,” Dean said casually.

“Dean…”

“Look, this is part of that whole nagging thing. I said I’ll get the book, and I will.” Dean had moved past the oddity of his and Angel’s friendship, and now he was feeling protective of it. It was his own little bit of privacy in his life that he just wasn’t willing to give up yet.

Sam knit his eyebrows together, but nodded. “Alright. Well, I have to get back to work. See you later.”

“Bye Sammy.”

Dean went inside and looked at the appointment book. There wasn’t anything scheduled that required his presence, so he decided to call it an early day and headed home to get a shower before going to the book store. The store was only about ten minutes from his house, so he didn’t have long to beat himself up for leaving work early. Putting on his ‘seeing people I know’ face, Dean got out of his car and walked in, spotting a hungover Jo first thing.

“Wow, Jo, not looking so hot. How long did you stay after I left last night?” Dean smirked teasingly at her.

Jo managed a weak smile and groaned slightly. “Long enough. So what brings you here?”

Dean averted his gaze to the counter for a moment. “Well, I actually need a book about dealing with and hiring employees. Sam won’t get off my ass about my workload, so I told him I’d see about hiring someone.”

Nodding her understanding and looking a bit relieved, Jo led him over to the business section. “You should be able to find something over here, but let me know if you need anything else. If I don’t know, I’m sure the ‘human computer’ over there does…I swear he knows every single book we have and where it is.” She tilted her head in Castiel’s direction and walked off to ring someone up.

The first thing Dean saw when he looked over toward ‘the human computer’ was a very human, very firm-looking ass as Castiel was bent over grabbing some books from the lowest shelf on the cart. Then he stood up, and Dean blinked twice. Accompanying that grab-worthy ass were muscular thighs that were showcased by the tight jeans, a waistcoat that accentuated a lean torso, strong-looking forearms, and a head of messy dark brown hair that looked like it was used to having fingers run through it. Regardless of not being able to see the man’s face from this angle, Dean couldn’t help but wonder why such a person would be working in a book store. Somehow, he looked like he’d be more well-suited to a band with a violinist, or maybe somewhere like an art gallery or some social networking site’s headquarters. All the same, Dean had shit to do and got back to browsing, glancing up occasionally to see if he could get a glimpse of the guy’s face. With all of his other assets, Dean wouldn’t be surprised if the guy was one of those ‘hot from the back, rough from the front’ kinds of people.

Oh, but how wrong he was.

Dean figured that he’d get a look on his way out and strode slowly past the front, and was rewarded when Castiel looked up. Fuckin’ A, long-distance viewing didn’t hold a candle to up-close. Behind heavy-framed glasses was a pair of blue eyes that were so bright Dean would’ve thought the man was wearing colored contacts, if not for well, the glasses. Then he noticed ridiculously kissable lips and a layer of scruff that he immediately imagined scraping along his own neck. Christ almighty, Dean was seeing a real-life ‘sexy librarian’, a species that wasn’t supposed to actually exist outside of fantasies. And shit. Apparently he’d been staring, because the guy looked utterly confused, so Dean put on his best smirk to hide his embarrassment at being caught and the guy looked away, seemingly over the moment.

Getting back in his car, Dean put the key in the ignition and looked at the window to the book store, wondering if Angel was anywhere near as attractive.  Shaking his head to clear his wandering thoughts, Dean turned the key and headed home, knowing that the sooner he read the book, the sooner he could work toward clearing up some hours. And get his brother off his ass for once.


	5. Chapter 5

It’s amazing what you can learn over the course of a few weeks about a person. Dean learned about Castiel’s book and that it was almost complete, that he came from an intensely religious family with an absent father, and had become the black sheep after announcing his own fairly agnostic views.

“I guess it’s only appropriate that I’m calling you Angel then, huh?” Dean asked teasingly.

Castiel had laughed heartily and said, “You have no idea.”

He loves to people-watch in the park on nice days, has a black belt in karate, and fenced competitively as a child. He finds humanity inspiring and has a ‘to each their own’ attitude. Although he loves to cook, he rarely does anything fancy because there’s no one else to cook for. Castiel also rarely drinks, but mostly because his tolerance is so high that it gets expensive and almost becomes more of a chore. Dean challenges him to prove it someday, earning a laugh in return.

Castiel also learns about Dean. About his years spent raising his younger brother (‘the sasquatch’) while their father buried himself in work and alcohol after their mother’s death, Dean’s love for his car and pie and all things pop culture, and that he’s now an orphan and admittedly, burying himself in work. The sour note of self-loathing in his voice didn’t go undetected by Castiel.  Dean also prefers to sleep on his stomach, loves kids, and knows that he looks good in a suit, even though he doesn’t like to wear them often. And okay, maybe he has a carefully hidden nerdy side that comes through every once in a while. He’s also surprisingly well-read and admits that he would’ve tried out for a school play if life had been more normal for him when he was young.

The conversations came easily, despite the difference in their backgrounds, and they quickly came to realize that they each had limits to how far they could be pushed on topics that were emotionally touchy. There may have been a couple times that they called each other out on their bullshit and one would hang up, but by the next day, one of them would make contact and it would blow over. Their friendship was becoming comfortable in that sometimes there was the random “I don’t know what to eat for dinner” text, and the “hey, turn it to channel 53” phone call, which had one time turned into watching a Cirque du Soleil performance on the phone together. Still though, both men knew that the premise of their relationship was odd and neither had shared its existence with anyone. Not that everyone didn’t know, though. Gabriel and Jo were both aware immediately, when Castiel had suddenly gone from ‘what is phone?’ to ‘text master flash’. Try as they may, neither could get Castiel to share any details. Sam also knew something was going on, considering that Dean’s smiles had started reaching his eyes again, and would light up when his phone would go off. On this particular Saturday, Sam managed to almost get something out of Dean when he walked into Dean’s office while he was on the phone.

“…you can fence, doesn’t mean you could handle a light sa...”

Dean’s sentence trailed off when he spotted Sam hovering in the doorway, lips twisted up in a smirk.

“Hey A-aaangelo, hang on a sec,” Dean said into the phone as he looked at Sam.

“Oh, so your dirty little secret’s in the mob now?” he heard the gravelly voice purr with amusement through the tiny speaker at his ear.

Sam scoffed at Dean’s attempt at hiding the caller’s identity and didn’t even try to be quiet when he said, “Oh, so we have an old Italian uncle I didn’t know about?”

Castiel heard what Sam said and roared with laughter through the phone and Dean turned red, hoping that Sam couldn’t hear it from where he was standing. “Shut up, dude!” Dean hoped, even as he looked directly at his brother, that both Sam and Angel would take it personally and quit with the mockery. Castiel did simmer down into quiet amusement, and Sam just looked at him, unimpressed.

Finally, Castiel put Dean out of his misery by telling Dean he would call him back later and hung up. Relieved, Dean put his phone in his pocket and leaned back in his seat. “What’s up, Sammy?”

“Apparently, walking in on you and your weird phone thing. Who is it, Dean? And don’t say Angelo, because that’s bullshit.” Sam looked at Dean with raised eyebrows and arms crossed.

“Yeah, well, your nosiness is bullshit.” Dean crossed his own arms now, knowing that he was being childish.

Sam walked over and sat in the chair on the other side of the desk. “Look Dean, I’m glad that you seem to have made a friend and are doing better, but come on. Why are you being all secretive and weird about it?” Sam ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Because you know I’m cool with it if you, uh, you know. Like the guy or whatever.”

 “What?” Dean was pretty sure he hadn’t been sounding flirty in his phone conversation, so what the hell?

“Dean, I know you like guys too, okay? We lived on top of each other for almost 20 years! How could I not know?” Sam was starting to sound exasperated.

Dean gaped at his brother, but didn’t deny it. He’d come to terms with his sexuality years ago, but that didn’t mean he wanted to talk about it with everyone. Finally, words found him again.

“Oh. Well, uh, thanks. But I’m still not really ready to talk about him, alright?”

Sam let out a breath and nodded. “That’s cool. So anyway, I was just popping by to see how you were doing on my way home, but I guess we already cleared that up. There’s actually a mountain of paperwork I’ve got to do, so I guess I’d better get going so I can get in bed sometime before 2 am.” He frowned at remembering the work ahead of him and rose to go.

“Now look who’s overworked,” Dean smirked.

“Well, not all of us are our own boss,” Sam pointed out. “See you later, Dean.”

“Later, man.”

This was actually one of those days that Dean had spent later at the office than normal, but that was pretty typical for a Saturday. The shop was closed on Sundays, so Dean liked to take care of all the loose ends on Saturday nights in order to ensure a smooth Monday morning. An hour later, the last of the inventory, cleaning, money handling, and paperwork was done and Dean pushed his palms to his eyes. Garth, the new hire, had really whipped all of this stuff into shape and was an amazing multi-tasker with these kinds of things, so Dean decided to be nice and let the guy out of the office early on Saturdays. It turned out that Dean hadn’t needed another mechanic once his own time was freed up, away from dealing with the majority of the clerical work. Looking at his watch, it was going on 9:00 and everyone else had been gone for almost two hours. Yep, time to head out.

***

Castiel was 27 years old, writing a novel, and sitting around in his underwear on a Saturday night just like always, but for the first time in a long while, it was bothering him; he was antsy. He looked around his apartment and felt a sudden wave of irritation with himself. Sure, living alone was nice and afforded him his privacy, but at what point does it become pitiful, he wondered to himself. The open box of Froot Loops that he’d been munching on dry, The Cure playing in the background, and a pile of unopened mail (mostly bills) on the end of his desk, was his answer.

“Oh my god, I _am_ an asshat,” he wondered aloud.

Not that any of those things were asshat material alone, but the accumulation of all these things, including himself, made him feel like a ridiculous human being. He started to wonder when his natural inclination toward solitude had become a shield against dealing with the world. When had he sealed himself away from everything besides his job and his book? _Oh shit! I’m going to become Boo Radley_ , he thought to himself, dramatically. Well, at least he had his flirty friend Chief, who he liked to think looked like Jo’s friend. Not that having an anonymous phone partner was much better, but at least he wasn’t completely alone. But then, if he wasn’t so damned closed off that he couldn’t even return a flirty smirk, maybe he wouldn’t be so attached to what was still essentially a complete stranger.

Castiel pulled out his phone and called his friend. Maybe they needed to discuss ditching the aliases, after all. It would at least make Castiel feel a little less lame, being able to have a name to put to a voice, even if not a face.

“Hey Angel,” Chief said a little breathlessly.

“Hello Chief. Did I interrupt something?”

“No, I just, uh…” Chief paused distractedly for a moment. “Sorry. Having a problem with my towel.”

Castiel’s throat went dry, the point behind his phone call slipping away from his mind. Chief had wanted to talk to him enough that he didn’t bother with waiting to call back after getting dressed. And now was probably dripping and only in a malfunctioning towel. Castiel cleared his throat, trying to shake the unease that would surely come from his voice.

“Oh. Well, you could have called me back. I didn’t mean to interrupt your shower.”

“Nah, man, you didn’t interrupt. I was just getting out when the phone rang. Although it is colder than a witch’s titty in a glass bra in here.”

Castiel grinned at the saying, not having heard it in years. Then he heard what was most likely a dresser drawer opening and a dissatisfied groan.

“Goddammit, I forgot to do laundry,” Chief whined.

“I guess somebody’s stuck going commando tomorrow,” Castiel teased.

Chief scoffed. “Oh, I think not. No way am I walking around getting chafed to death and feeling all exposed. I’ll handwash some before dealing with that.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. How could such a forward man seem so prudish about something like this? “Well clearly, you’re wearing the wrong kind of pants then.”

“So what? Are you saying you have some kind of commando expertise here or something?” Chief asked with strained humor in his voice.

“If you want to avoid chafing, you could just wear lounge pants,” Castiel offered. “Or just go naked. You live alone, right? Not like anyone’s going to be offended,” he said casually. He knew the effect it would have, but couldn’t bring himself to care. Why was it so much fun egging this guy on? It had been from the first instant, and it was admittedly a bit heady.

“Dude, I’m gonna be honest here, and feel free to bless me out afterward. But fuck, you have the voice of a phone-sex operator. You might wanna be careful about saying things like ‘naked’ and ‘dirty little secret’, because people might get the wrong idea.”

Castiel chuckled darkly. “I wasn’t aware that my voice carried that particular tone, so thank you for informing me. Although I suspect I’ve already given you the wrong idea,” he said with an obvious husk at the end.

“Angel,” Chief said warningly. That was enough to push Castiel into feeling bold.

“What? Am I incorrect? I bet you’re still sitting there in your towel right now, trying not to touch yourself as I speak.” Castiel pitched his voice in a dramatically sultry manner, trying to sound mocking, but could feel adrenaline seeping into his veins at saying such a thing. This was beyond out of character for him, and it was exhilarating. Anonymity did carry the perk of being able to say things that he normally wouldn’t.

Chief made a choked off noise. “Dude, stop your shit or I’m gonna get off of here.”

Castiel made a thoughtful humming noise and looked down at his own crotch, which was starting to show interest. “Do you really want me to stop, Chief?”

“Fuck. You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Why not? You like my voice, and I know you’re turned on,” Castiel said reasonably.

“Well shit, what about you?” Chief sounded a bit indignant at the idea of being the only one to enjoy this. Castiel found it incredibly endearing and sighed.

“Chief, I don’t do anything I don’t want to. Now, are we going to talk about this, or are you going to help me get off tonight?” Castiel rubbed at his crotch tentatively, waiting for a response.

“Christ! Okay. Wait, are you touching yourself right now?” Chief’s voice raised in pitch as he asked the question.

“Yes.” Castiel palmed a little harder at his growing erection, letting out a little sigh as he did.

***

To say that Dean was confused about what was going on would be an understatement. What had possessed Angel to suddenly decide he wanted phone sex? Not that Dean was complaining by any means, but it was confusing nonetheless.

“What are you thinking about?” Dean asked, genuinely curious.

“Honestly? How much I like knowing you’re getting hard, just listening to the sound of my voice. How I bet you’re imagining what I must look like, laying in bed with my hand on my dick.”  Angel let out a small moan and continued. “Touch yourself, Chief. I know you haven’t yet.”

Dean sucked in a breath at the commanding tone and slid his hand down to his cock, releasing the breath as he stroked a few times. “You’re just saying your thoughts out loud, aren’t you? You’ve got me hard as fuck, and I bet you’re all smug right now, huh?”

“Only slightly. But you’re not the only one that’s all bothered right now. I feel like my dick is going to suffocate if I don’t get naked.” A small rustling of fabric told Dean that Angel was doing exactly that.

“I would’ve helped you out of those minutes ago. Wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.” Dean threw the towel aside and lay down on the bed. “What would you do if I were there right now?”

Angel groaned. “I’d sit in your lap while you grab my ass, pull me close. Wanna…feel your cock next to mine, all wet and leaking your pre-come against it. F-feel your mouth on my neck while you…nnng…suck your mark on it.”

Dean practically growled deep in his throat, stroking faster as he imagined the blue eyed stranger, head thrown back. “Fuck! Bet you taste so good, baby. Swallow you down whole, just to see the look on your face. Wa…watch you while you come down my throat.”

Angel let out a positively sinful moan into the phone, followed by a few pants and a soft click. “What…what color are your eyes?”

“Green,” Dean said absently. Angel hissed and whimpered, but didn’t say anything for a minute and something struck Dean. “Are you fingering yourself?” The thought alone made the pre-come start dribbling more steadily from his cock and he thumbed the head, swiping the fluid down his length.

“Y-yes. Wish it was you,” Angel rasped. “Ride your dick so fucking hard…” The sentence trailed off as Angel’s breathing harshened. Neither man said anything for a moment, both lost in their fantasy worlds. Between breaths, Dean was starting to be able to hear the rhythm of Angel’s movements and it was one of the dirtiest things he’d ever heard.

Dean was panting hard enough as he stroked to feel dizzy and groaned loudly. “Oh my god, I can hear you fucking yourself! Goddamn!” Dean could feel his orgasm looming as heat pooled in his gut. By the sound of the groans and harsh breaths on the phone, Angel was getting close, too.

“I’m not gonna…” Angel made a hissing noise and then groaned deep in his throat. “Ah! Oh god. N-now!”

The simple growled command was all it took to send Dean over the edge and he felt a loud moan get pulled out from deep in his throat as spurt after spurt of come spilled over his hand.

In the midst of his own groaning, Dean could hear Angel’s own cry, and a litany of curses fall from his lips. Soon they were both simply listening to each other breathe as they each came down from their highs. Finally, Dean heard Angel let out a contented little sigh, and he responded with his own.

“So, uh,” Dean laughed breathily, “Shit, that was intense. Wouldn’t have thought you had it in you, Angel.”

Angel merely hummed thoughtfully before responding. “I um, I don’t really do this. I mean, that’s the first time, you know…” he trailed off.

Dean blinked slowly in surprise. “Wait. Are you saying that that was the first time you’ve ever had phone sex?”

There was a pause on the other end. “If you’re going to mock me-“

“No! No, definitely not mocking. Just surprised, that’s all. You’ve just got a hell of a mouth on you,” Dean said with a smile in his voice.

“I’m not sure whether that should make me feel better or not,” Angel said seriously. “I need to go clean up. Goodnight, Chief.”

Dean wasn’t really sure how to respond to the sudden change in demeanor and frowned. “Okay. Night night, Angel. I’ll talk to you later.”

Angel hung up without another word, and Dean pulled the phone away from his ear, staring at it dumbly for a minute. Not for the first time with this stranger, Dean found himself wondering what in the hell had just happened. Great. Now everything was weird, and it was his own fault for not being able to be the voice of reason and stop it all before it had begun. Being honest though, the experience hadn’t left Dean feeling dirty, like phone sex often had a tendency to do; it actually felt much more personal than he’d expected. This only led to more puzzlement, Dean wondering when he’d stopped seeing Angel as a stranger, and just how bad had he fucked everything up. The thought that he might have somehow made Angel feel objectified squeezed at his chest, that he may have made his friend feel used. Post-orgasmic endorphins effectively shut off, Dean cleaned up and fixed himself a drink, settling in for a good buzz to lull himself to sleep.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience and kind words, y'all, it means a lot! :D


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel tossed the phone on the bed a few feet away and stared at it, as if he could will it to give him the answers to the questions that were beating against his skull. Like when had he ever had enough nerve to say such provocative things out loud before, even if it was anonymously? And why had he thought it would be a good idea to complicate the one good thing he’d had in a long while, with something as stupid as phone sex? Oh god, would Chief even want to talk to him again? Had the man just been biding his time to get this? After all, he’d had no qualms about trying to sext a complete stranger. No, that’s ridiculous. No one would hang around for weeks just to get a little bit of dirty talk, much less turn tail right after they get it. But what if Chief would want this to become a regular thing; was Castiel really up for that? And if they didn’t do it again, would Chief think that Castiel had used him?

The questions and worries were coming to him rapid-fire, and Castiel could feel a headache threatening behind his eyes. This is exactly why he never did things like this in the first place. It was all so gray and uncertain, chaotic, even. Living alone, running the store, and writing were simple things that always made sense. Cleaning out his car every Sunday, his daily strip-down routine, his night time playlist, these were all comfortable, dependable things that were easy to handle. But people? Unpredictable, too many variables, unstable. At any given moment they can either make your week or tear you apart, depending on their mood at the moment. Castiel did not like being at anyone’s mercy in any way shape or form.

Castiel knew that he wasn’t a controlling person in the traditional sense; he had no desire to control the actions or feelings of others. However, he _was_ a control freak about his environment and his own decisions. Being in control had served him well many times over the years, manifesting itself as a sense of preparedness that kept him comfortable- never lacking for a drink when thirsty, a jacket when cold, even the wireless USB charger that he kept in the glove box alongside a roll of quarters for various emergencies (air for tires, payphone, etc.). However, it had started to make itself clearer over the last couple years that running such a tight ship also made it harder for him to do anything that pushed him out of his comfort zone without the anxiety attacks.

Rolling onto his side, Castiel turned on the TV and tried to ignore the self-loathing over his inability to function with other people in his life, no matter how lonely he could get. It wasn’t all bad, though. Castiel had a tendency to have only a very few friends at a time, but those that he had, he was very close to and fiercely loyal. Plus, the fewer people that he was around, the less chance there was that the details of his life would make it back to his parents, who would no doubt seize the opportunity to harass him about his choices as much as possible. At some point, the colorful movements of Inuyasha caught his eye as he channel surfed and he went to the kitchen to heat up some leftovers, ready to shut down the thought processes for the night and zone into the banter of the half-demon and his school girl companion. Castiel had read that dreams are the brain’s way of organizing and dealing with one’s issues and stresses, so he figured that for now he’d try to push it all down to his subconscious and let his mind sort it out while he slept that night. Surely he’d have a better handle on himself by morning.

***

Two days later, and neither man had called or messaged the other. Castiel didn’t realize what a habit he’d gotten in of talking to Chief throughout the day until he had to stop himself for the fourth time that day, from sharing some little tidbit or greeting. It’s not that he didn’t want to, not by a long shot. But what do you say to someone after you do the weird-phone-relationship version of a fuck and run? The desire to talk to Chief was just as strong as the desire to hide away, and the turmoil was putting him in a foul mood. Castiel was glad that Gabriel had taken notice of the change and let him go straight to the office, working on his plethora of spreadsheets that he used to keep the orders, store projects, and other reports organized.

Dean wasn’t faring much better himself, stomping around the garage and cursing under his breath more than usual. He’d had two days to wallow and had come to the conclusion that he must have blown it, although he still wasn’t exactly sure what he’d done. It crossed his mind that Angel might have a complex about sex and was feeling ashamed of doing something semi-kinky with a stranger. Dean wouldn’t be surprised in the least if Angel were to announce that he’d never had a one-night stand before. As much as he wanted to see if Angel was alright, he was also kind of irritated that the guy couldn’t even send a damned text, so Dean spent the majority of the day working on a particular restoration that had needed a lot of dents pounded out.

As Monday wore on, Dean was brooding to the point that it had taken his name being called four times before it even registered that someone was trying to get his attention. Garth was standing nearby with his hands in his pockets and a knowing look.

“Hey boss? Why don’t you head out for the day? It’s almost five, and I doubt we’ll see much more action the next couple hours. Go take a bath and find your Zen or something.”

Dean narrowed his eyes at the bird-like man in front of him. “For Christ’s sake Garth, do I look like a bubble bath kind of man to you?”

Garth grinned and giggled, shaking his head. “I didn’t say anything about bubbles, man.”

Dean opened his mouth to respond and snapped it back shut for a moment. “Fine, whatever. See you in the morning.”

After a quick scrub from finger to elbow and a clothing change, Dean grabbed his keys out of the office and headed out. The next thing he knew, he was pulled up in front of the book store, with no memory of the drive or even making the decision to go there. Even so, he found himself getting out and striding toward the door, supposing that he may as well go in, regardless of whether or not he felt a little guilty for wanting to check out the Sexy Librarian. And if Dean registered that he was doing this because he missed Angel and the librarian made him think on some level of his friend, he chose not to dwell on it. At least this was less destructive than his typical behavior of forgetting himself in a bar.

As soon as he walked in, he saw a bored looking man with a beard leaning on the counter as he thumbed through a book. With a quick glance, Dean surmised that no one else was manning the store at the moment and felt an odd mixture of relief and disappointment. Making his way to the fiction section, he looked over several books, distractedly reading the backs for their descriptions and putting them back. Finally he found something that looked promising and opened it up with the intention of reading the first few pages, to see if it would catch his attention. Halfway through the second page, Dean decided it seemed like an interesting start and began walking toward the front to make his purchase.

The moment he rounded the end of the aisle, Dean found himself colliding into another body, slightly smaller than himself but no less solid, each of them letting out a surprised “oof” at the jarring contact. Immediately reaching out a hand to catch the other man by the shoulder, he realized who the shoulder belonged to and let out a soft “oh.” The ‘human computer’ snapped his eyes to Dean’s and faster than Dean could comprehend, they flickered from surprise to something like sadness, and then to a scowl. The next thing he knew, Dean’s hand was being pushed off and the guy shoved past him, without so much as a ‘sorry’, and stomped toward a door a few feet away and disappeared into a room beyond. The whole exchange took no more than five seconds and Dean was too stunned by the abruptness of it and the scowl on the man’s face to respond until the guy was out of sight.

Blinking a couple of times, Dean felt indignation creep up and muttered, “asshole” under his breath as he made his way to the front. The bearded man, whose nametag said ‘Chuck’, looked nervous as Dean approached the counter.

“I- I apologize for that. I’ve never seen him act that way before,” Chuck said with tense shoulders, clearly awaiting a verbal assault.

Dean frowned, but laid the book down on the counter; it had still looked interesting, regardless. “Yeah, well, not your fault guy’s being rude. But tell Jo to kick his ass…he gave me the freakin’ stink eye!”

Chuck knit his brows in confusion. “Well, if it helps, I don’t think he’s feeling well today. And you know Jo?”

“Yeah, I’ve known her for years.” Dean’s face softened slightly at that.

“Well, a spitfire she may be, but I doubt she’d tell him off so much as slap him on the back of the head and then make him talk about it,” Chuck  said with a shrug.

Dean chuckled, imagining his feisty friend and how much like her mother she could be. “Well, tell her Dean came by and that she needs to give Mister Broody-Face a talkin’-to.” As soon as the words left his mouth he winced in regret at the title he’d bestowed. Chuck looked at him strangely and coughed lightly as he turned his eyes downward.

“Er, actually, don’t worry about it. We all have our off days,” Dean said quickly as he grabbed up his purchase. He rolled out of the store as quickly as he could without looking like he was running, cheeks reddening as he made his way to his car.

Once inside, he started the car and glanced over to the book lying on the passenger seat, thinking about his literal run-in only minutes before. Being hot does NOT excuse rudeness, but maybe the guy really was just having a bad day; he did look kind of rough compared to the last time he’d seen him, just wearing an old black t-shirt this time, and looking tired. Hopefully, Chuck wasn’t the gossiping type, or Dean would never hear the end of it from Jo. Dean sighed and drove home, ready to just put the day behind him and settle into a world other than his own, within the pages of his book.

***

“He called me what?!” An embarrassed flush was already creeping up Castiel’s cheeks.

Jo giggled and leaned on the counter next to Castiel. “You heard me, Broody-Face,” she said with a playful pat to his cheek. Castiel tried to glare at her, but it only made her laugh even more. When she finally calmed down, she turned more serious eyes on him. “Seriously though, it’s not even Tuesday, so what’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

Castiel shrugged but didn’t look up. “I’ll be fine; I just have some things on my mind.” He really didn’t want to share that seeing the man whose eyes he’d imagined during phone sex had been a harsh metaphorical shove toward deepening his already darkened mood. All the same, Jo’s friend didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of Castiel’s frustration; it’s not like it was Dean’s fault that Castiel was emotionally constipated. He rubbed his hands down his face and turned to look at Jo. “Dean probably thinks I’m a complete jackass.”

Jo grinned mischievously. “You could ask him to meet you for an apology beer,” she suggested with raised eyebrows.

“I don’t think I’m up for all of that. But if you talk to him soon, would you mind to let him know that I’m sorry and don’t normally behave that way?”

“Yeah, I think I can do that. Now, get your ass out of here and go home and get your shit straightened out, alright?” Jo’s concerned tone saved the order from sounding as biting as it could have and Castiel nodded, grateful that his shift was over.

He knew she was right, and he spent his commute home working up the nerve to make the phone call. Apparently though, the nerve to make the actual call was a bit too much to summon, because he continued to fret all the way through a shower, cooking and eating supper, and cleaning up afterward. Finally, when he couldn’t procrastinate any longer, he picked up his phone and decided to start with a message. Sure, it may have been cowardly, but Castiel figured that it served a secondary purpose, of giving Chief the choice to respond when he was ready.

**> >I’m sorry.  8:52pm**

He’d stared at the text for almost five minutes, trying to figure out what else to add on to it, but nothing seemed right. Sorry I freaked out? Sorry I’ve been blowing you off for two days? Sorry I’m borderline socially inept? Eventually, Castiel gave up and sent the message as-is. If Chief wanted to talk, he could choose the way the conversation would go from here. Only half-expecting any response at all, Castiel was surprised when his phone rang two minutes later and groaned, knowing that he was about to have a really uncomfortable discussion. He really hated confrontation.

“Hello, Chief.”

“Hey, Angel,” Chief said quietly.

Neither man said anything for a minute, and Castiel finally sighed, knowing that it was up to him. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…I mean, what do you…” He knew his mouth was getting ahead of his admittedly disorganized thoughts and groaned softly at how foolish he must sound.

Chief chuckled softly on the other end of the line. “Whoa there, Angel. Calm down. First off, why are you apologizing?”

Castiel took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I shouldn’t have hung up the way I did. I wasn’t trying to be rude, I just...I panicked.”

“Do you regret it?” Chief's voice was unsettlingly neutral.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Castiel sighed inwardly at the awkwardness of it all. “Well, I would like to say no, because I rather enjoyed myself. But I’d like to think that we’re…friends, and I _will_ regret it if my behavior has ruined that and made you angry with me.” God, he hated having to be this honest about his feelings when he barely understood them to begin with. Fortunately, Chief seemed okay with his answer, if the relieved breath on the other end of the line was any indication.

“Well I don’t regret it either, dammit! Shit dude, you had me worried that I’d made you feel like I’d used you or something. I wouldn’t do that to you, you know.”

Castiel felt something tight unwind in his chest and he started to relax. “Oh. Well thank you, Chief. So you’re not angry?”

Chief scoffed before he answered. “No, Angel, I’m not angry, I was just worried. Although that was pretty dickish not letting me know. Thought I’d fucked up.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m not very good with…confrontation. Now I think I’d like to just play this by ear if you don’t mind. Can we do that? Just continue on like we were?” Castiel was pretty sure that they’d both just agreed that they were fine with what had happened, which means that it wasn’t actually weird until he’d made it that way. Of course.

“Yes to all of it. Now, if we’re done comparing bra sizes, can we please just talk like normal?” Chief had obvious relief in his voice and Castiel couldn’t help but grin.

“Okay. Well, would you like to watch some TV?”

Chief agreed heartily and they set about channel surfing until they could agree on something to watch together. Settling back into their typical banter, both men were relieved that this had gotten straightened out and each could hear a smile in the other’s voice when they spoke now. So maybe things could really keep on as they were, just with a more colorful history now.


	7. Chapter 7

 

True to agreement, Dean and Castiel really were able to go mostly back to normal. Over the next couple weeks they still watched TV together, talked about their days (carefully avoiding sharing their actual occupations, since they lived in the same city), and debated various subjects. Phone sex happened one more time, but only after they discovered that sexting was just not feasible; kind of hard to keep your rhythm up and type at the same time. This time though, the call didn’t end after they were spent. The two men came down from their highs and spent the next hour talking about nothing in particular, just enjoying each other’s company. Hanging up that night, it crossed Dean’s mind that they had done a long-distance version of cuddling and he wasn’t sure whether he should make fun of himself or enjoy the odd intimacy. In the end he chose to enjoy it, but ultimately avoided thinking about why. Castiel also noticed the change and felt a fondness blooming for his friend. He liked to equate it to not metaphorically waking up alone.  Neither man brought it up later the next day though; both were glad to keep the status quo, aware of how the anonymous nature of their relationship lent it a certain fragility.

On a Friday night, Dean found himself sitting at The Roadhouse, waiting on his brother to arrive while talking on the phone with Angel.

“Four days?” Dean regretted the almost whiny tone the moment it escaped his lips; he knew he was being selfish. Of course Angel had family, and Dean really didn’t begrudge him for wanting to see them. Even if it did mean he’d be bored out of his skull without his nightly phone call.

Angel laughed lightly. “Careful Chief, or I might think you’re going to miss me, what with that tone,” he said dryly.

“Pffft. I think I’ll survive. It’s good that you’re getting some time with your brother and switching it up. We can’t have you just molding away at your laptop and talking to me. Everyone needs family.”

Up until this moment, Dean had been hearing the background noise of Angel banging around in his kitchen as he cooked, but the line suddenly became quieter. “Chief, are you implying that you are wasting my time?” Angel asked softly.

Dean’s stomach went ice cold for a moment at the gentleness in Angel’s voice and he reflexively took a swig of his whiskey to warm it back up. “Well, aren’t I?”

The sudden drop in the timbre of Angel’s voice sent a shiver down Dean’s spine. “No, you are not, and that’s my decision to make, anyway. And I do not talk to you out of pity. Do you feel that you are wasting your own time by talking to me?” The question somehow didn’t sound like much of a question.

“No! Jesus, dude. Of course not,” Dean rushed out.

“I didn’t think so. Now please stop thinking so little of yourself for once. If I didn’t think you were a person of character or morals I wouldn’t talk to you. You may not be able to see it, but you are a good man, Chief.”

Dean took a deep breath, not quite sure how this person that didn’t even know his real name could possibly come to that conclusion.

“Stop that. I know what you’re thinking, so stop,” Angel said warningly.

“Fine, fine,” Dean said, uncomfortable with the almost-praise and ready to change the subject. “So this brother of yours…is he going to get you out of the house?”

“Yes, but I’m not so sure I’m going to like it. I’m certain that at some point we’ll end up at some den of iniquity or arrested or both.” There was a clear pout in Angel’s voice and the noise of cooking started up again in the background.

Dean couldn’t help but laugh now. “Den of iniquity? Seriously? Please don’t say that again. You’re getting your nerd cooties on me through the phone.”

“I’m fairly certain that any cooties,” Dean could practically hear Angel using air quotes at that, “I’d share through the phone have already been exchanged,” Angel said with a suggestive smirk in his voice.

Dean blushed a bit and looked around The Roadhouse in his paranoia, as if someone might have heard what Angel had said. “Dude! I...” Dean sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Well, look, those are the good kind of cooties. And as of now, we’re not saying that word anymore, either. But seriously though, try to have some fun this weekend, alright?”

“Fine, I’ll try. But this is going to be a long four days,” Angel said with resignation. “I love my brother, but he has a penchant for decadence that I find overstimulating.”

“Aw, I’ll miss you too,” Dean cooed, all sappy-sweet sarcasm, but both men knew there was truth in the statement.

Feeling eyes on him, Dean looked up and was surprised to see his moose of a brother standing by the table, arms crossed over his chest and smirking dramatically. How in the hell did he not hear or see the man approach? Sam, for all his grace, was not quiet when he walked and definitely loomed no matter where he was. Shit.

“Uh, I gotta go, my brother’s here now. Talk to you later.”

“He heard what you said, didn’t he?” Angel asked with amusement.

“Yeah, pretty much.” Dean rubbed hard at one of his eyes and heard Angel laughing heartily at the other end of the line.

“Well, goodnight Chief.”

“Night night.”

“Say it,” Dean heard Angel say smugly.

“What?” Dean was really hoping Angel wasn’t doing this to him.

“Say my name, Chief.” The tone was somewhere between teasing and commanding, making Dean’s cheeks flush. Sam’s raised eyebrow was not helping.

“Not cool,” Dean whispered harshly, now turned sideways in the booth with his back to his brother.

“Mmmm…that’s good to know,” Angel purred. “Now, I’m not going to ask again, Chief. Say. It.”

Dean felt like his face was going to melt off if this conversation continued. “Goodnight, Angel,” he gritted out, hearing a dark chuckle on the other end as he hung up.

Sam had waited patiently for Dean to end his phone call and sat across from him in the booth, eyes twinkling with mirth, one side of his mouth quirked up.

“Shut up, bitch,” Dean muttered without looking up.

Sam raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say anything, jerk.”

“Well good. Don’t.”

Sam scoffed and grabbed a menu, even though he already knew what he was going to order. “I’m just glad you’re happy, Dean.”

He tried to glare at Sam, but for once it looked like his younger brother was going to leave it alone, so Dean cleared his throat and took a sip of his drink.

“So, uh, are you really juggling two different prospects?” Sam’s eyes had narrowed at this point.

Completely caught off guard at that particular question, Dean frowned in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Sam rolled his eyes and leaned forward with his elbows on the table. “Well, I happen to have heard that you’ve got the hots for one Mr. Broody-Face,” he said with barely-stifled laughter.

Other than the flare of his nostrils, Dean’s face went completely blank. “I’m going to kill Jo. And the beardy-man while I’m at it.”

Sam let his laughter out now, the sound rich and warm. “Hey, it’s not her fault you’re such a dork, Dean. And who’s Beardy-Man?”

Dean groaned at his inability to stop assigning people nicknames that ended up embarrassing himself. “He’s the guy that was working when the thing happened the other day.”

Sam was beaming in amusement now. “They sound like a comic book duo…The Adventures of Broody-Face and Beardy-Man.” He cackled at his own funny, no doubt imagining the costumes and everything and completely ignoring Dean’s scowl.

After a minute, Sam sobered and Dean knew the conversation was going to happen. “Still though, you’re not exactly the juggling type, Dean. So what’s really going on?”

“Do we have to do this?” Dean was hoping for an out, even though he didn’t like keeping secrets from Sam. Sam cocked his head to the side and gave his best ‘you’re not getting out of this’ face.

“Fine, fine. But if you get all extra,” Dean gestured vaguely at his brother, “ _you_ about it, that’s it.”

“I’m not exactly sure what you’re implying, but go on,” Sam said patiently.

“Okay, so a couple months ago, I got this text from a number I didn’t know. Well, the way it was worded, I thought it was this girl I’d met trying to flirt, so I responded. Then we realized that we both thought we were talking to someone else, and the text wasn’t even meant to be sexy to begin with. And for some reason we kept talking. Then one night I uh, I called him. Next thing you know, we were talking all the time and now we’re kind of friends. Well, we kind of had a misunderstanding the other day and I wound up at the bookstore. No harm checking out the goods, right? I’m not asking the guy out or anything.” Dean was suddenly fascinated with the swirls in the wood of the table top.

Sam knit his brows and looked at Dean skeptically as he leaned back in his seat. “So let me get this straight. This guy that you accidentally came in contact with has become your phone friend or whatever, and you call him Angel? People don’t call their friends names like that, Dean.”

“Okay, look, Angel is just what I call him, alright?”

Sam gave Dean a look that straight-up said ‘no shit’. Then Dean watched as the gears turned in his brother’s head and the realization that dawned in his eyes.

“Dean! You’ve been talking to him all this time and don’t even know his name? Jesus! Do you even know anything about him? I mean like how old he is, his job, anything?”

Jaw clenching, Dean’s face hardened. “I know enough, okay? He’s 27, lives in the area, he’s writing a book, and is qualified in at least two ways to kick somebody’s ass. And you know what? I don’t really think I need to share everything else because it’s none of your damned business.”

The sudden defensiveness only irritated Sam briefly because he knew exactly what this was. This wasn’t Dean defending himself; this was him defending someone he cared about. Sam remained quiet for a moment as he thought about the past couple months. “So why are you still anonymous with each other?”

Dean ran a tired hand through his hair. “Honestly, I don’t know. It’s just never come up, except at the beginning when we decided not to say our names. And if it ain’t broke...”

Sam huffed and rolled his eyes. “That’s a piss-poor excuse and you know it. What are you afraid of, Dean? You two are becoming borderline co-dependent, if your end of it is anything to go by. So why don’t you want to see him face to face?”

 _Because that makes it way too real_ , Dean thought to himself. That’s nowhere near what he said though. “We are not co-dependent. And there’s something to be said for anonymous phone sex, Sammy,” Dean said with a waggle of eyebrows. Not that he expected the evasion tactic to be very successful.

Sam propped an elbow on the table and sunk his chin into his palm with a sigh. “You know it’s okay to be happy, right? I mean, it doesn’t devalue what you’re feeling about Dad being gone or whatever.” Sam said with concerned eyes, after his bitchface died down.

“Well you know what would make me happy right about now? Food. I’m starving, so let’s get to ordering.” Dean leveled Sam with a look that was nothing short of a challenge to try and keep the conversation going. Sam finally relented with a nod, lips drawn in a thin line; he knew he'd made his point and that it was all up to Dean now, to hopefully do something with it.

The rest of their dinner was spent carefully avoiding talking about Dean’s maybe-relationship and they easily lapsed back into their normal brotherly banter. As much as Sam wanted his brother to face his issues, he couldn’t deny that this thing of Dean’s was benefitting him. Eventually, it was time to go, both men equally exhausted from their workdays, and they stood in the parking lot as they got ready to part ways.

“You know, it’s kind of funny. I think this Broody-Face guy might be the one that helped me the day I bought that book for you, and he ran into me, too. But he apologized to me, so it must just be you,” Sam said playfully.

“Or he was having the normal response to running into a Sasquatch in the middle of civilization,” Dean returned.

Sam rolled his eyes and laughed as he clapped Dean on the shoulder. “See you later, Dean.”

“See ya, Sammy.”

Dean slid into his car and pulled out his phone.

_\--You’re an asshole, you know that?   9:12pm_

**> >I believe we already established that, yet you keep coming back  ;*   9:14pm**

Dean was amused at how Angel always managed to use emoticons to convey his sarcasm and grinned. But wait.

_\--Since when with the emoticons? Not complaining, just...    9:16pm_

**> >When did you start using punctuation and spelling your words out?    9:17pm**

_\--Your nerd is rubbing off on me, dammit.   9:19pm_

**> >Heh.    9:19pm**

_\--Did you just make that dirty?  9:20pm_

**> > I’m raising my eyebrow in response.   9:21pm**

_\--That’s fucking vague. And stop shrugging.   9:22pm_

**> >How could you know that?   9:24pm**

_\--I’m shrugging in response.  9:25pm_

**> >Touche.   9:25pm**

_\--Well, I gotta roll home. Ttyl.   9:27pm_

**> >Be careful, Chief. Goodnight.  9:28pm**

_\--Sweet dreams, Angel.   9:29pm_

Dean rubbed his hands over his face and laughed at himself. Maybe Sam was onto something about the co-dependence thing; what else would you call this? Dean couldn’t even wait til he got home to text, but he was failing to summon the appropriate amount of guilt. This realization, paired with how alien it felt made him blink.

“Huh,” he heard himself say out loud. The sound of it startled him, and he shook his head at himself. “Time to go home, Winchester,” he said out loud, on purpose this time, and started the car.  


	8. Chapter 8

To say that Saturday was a busy day at the garage would be an understatement. There had already been six oil changes and three system flushes before lunch, and Dean couldn’t help but notice the influx of distinctly maintenance-related jobs coming in. Walking toward the break area to grab a sandwich, Dean passed Garth at the front desk, focusing intently on the computer and grinning as a couple of customers exited the lobby.

“That was what, the sixth oil change today? What in the hell is going on around here?” Dean asked as he strolled up to the desk, scratching his head.

Garth’s smile faltered, turning a bit sheepish. “I’m guessing you didn’t read your email?”

“What’s going on, Garth?” Dean’s voice was low and skeptical.

“We’re running a Saturday special?” Garth winced at the stony look on Dean’s face but hurried along in his explanation as he turned the computer screen to show Dean what he was looking at. “But see this here? This is last Saturday’s sales up to this time. Now look at this column,” he pointed a couple lines over. “This is what we’ve done today so far. I did some projections, and if this keeps up, here’s what we stand to profit over last week.”

Dean’s ire faded slightly as he took in the information before him and saw the numbers. There was no denying that they were making far more than the previous Saturdays and Dean was torn between wanting to punch Garth and hug him.

“This is good work, and thank you, but Garth? Make another business decision without talking to me face-to-face and I’ll stick my boot up your ass, got it?”

Garth’s eyes widened and he gulped before looking down. “Got it.” He wasn’t sure if Dean would actually do it or not.

Dean felt slightly guilty for the dejected look on the other man and huffed. “Look, if the business keeps up like this for the rest of the day, then we’ll talk about it more on Monday after I’ve looked at the reports, alright?”

“Cool beans, man,” Garth beamed. The phone began to ring and he turned to answer it, chirping ‘Winchester’s’ happily into the phone.

Dean walked off to get his sandwich, wondering at the dorky little dude that simultaneously pissed him off and surprised him with his good nature, even if sometimes misguided.

Sure enough, the rest of the day continued at the same pace and by the end of it, Dean was dirty and exhausted and content. Oil changes and such may not be very fulfilling work in themselves, but there was something to be said for knowing that every time a car exited one of the bays, Dean’s business was succeeding that much more. Of course Dean couldn’t let Garth get away with just a threat, so this particular Saturday, Dean kept him around to finish cleaning up the bays, while Dean kicked back in the air conditioning of the office to do his paperwork. Keeping Garth there got them out a lot earlier than expected, and Dean decided that he wasn’t going to let the man go early on Saturdays anymore. Especially if the weekends were going to continue being busy like that. Finally done with everything, the two men said their goodnights and Dean locked the doors and set the security system, glad that the day was over.

Once he got home, Dean took a very long and gloriously hot shower, wolfed down an unsatisfying frozen dinner, and turned on the TV. His thoughts turned to Angel for the first time that day, having been too busy with work to focus on much else. Out of habit, Dean started to reach for his phone, but he remembered that his friend had said that he was going out with his brother that night. Apparently, this particular brother had left their family like Angel had, but they hadn’t seen each other in years. Dean imagined that they would have a lot of catching up to do and opted not to intrude on Angel’s time. So it was going to be one of those nights. Resigning himself to it, Dean sprawled on the couch and turned the TV to a documentary, with the intent of boring himself into sleepiness. It must have worked, because the next thing he knew, he was being startled awake by the ring of his phone. Dean frowned when he looked at the display. Angel never called after 11, and it was currently almost 1:00 in the morning.

“Are you okay?” Dean was already moving to sit up, yawning as he went.

“Heeeeey Chief. You know what’s funny? I’ve lived here for years, yet I have no clue where I am. I mean, I know where I am, but I don’t know wheeerre I am,” Angel slurred. Dean heard a car honk in the background.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” Dean asked.

After a short giggle (and Jesus that was an unexpected sound), Angel apparently dropped the phone. Dean heard a clatter and a muffled ‘shit!’ before the phone eventually made it back to the man’s ear. “Yeah, I guess I am. And you know, I never noticed how many Prius’ there are around here. They’re everywhere, Chief!”

Dean wanted to laugh, but Angel’s first statement still had him worried. “You’re not lost right now, are you? What are you doing?”

“I’m…yeah, I have no idea where I am. I guess Balthazar left, and I don’t remember where he parked, anyway,” Angel said with a loud sigh.

Ignoring that last little bit of nonsense, Dean pressed on as his worry started to build. Even with a black belt, it doesn’t do you much good if your coordination is shot to shit. There was also no telling if his friend was in a bad part of town. “Do you have someone you can call that you trust to come get you? You really don’t need to wander around like that, man.”

“I tried calling a friend of mine, but she’s stuck at work and can’t get away. She told me to call my mystery friend.” Angel put extra emphasis on the last two words and chuckled a little. Dean imagined that Angel had wiggled his fingers as he said it.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing what was about to happen. “Okay dude, I’m coming to get you. First things first though, I need you to describe what you see around you and tell me whatever you can about where you went tonight. I also need you to tell me what you’re wearing while you’re at it.”

“Chieeef…not in public!” Angel sounded scandalized through the slur.

With a small grunt, Dean walked to his bedroom to start looking for some real clothes. “I need to know what you look like so I can find you, you twat.”

“Oh. Well I didn’t think of that,” Angel said flatly. “You’re not going to try and kill me or kidnap me and keep me under your stairs, are you?” he added.

Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Nah dude. No interest in having my own Potter. Besides, I don't have any stairs, and I’m pretty sure you’re more dangerous than I am.”

“See, now that’s suspicious.”

“What? I’m the one at risk here, picking your black-belted drunk ass up. Now, find a well-lit place and stay there while you tell me what you see and what you’re wearing.”

This time Angel snickered, but eventually did oblige.  

After they hung up, Dean’s stomach flipped as he realized what he was doing. He hadn’t even gotten dressed yet and was already feeling awkward, knowing that he was going to have to look this person in the eye. His friend not only knew him better than many of the people Dean had known for years, but also knew what he sounded like while he was getting off. The realization of exactly how intimate of a detail that was to know had Dean’s face heating up, now that he was going to have to actually meet this person. It left him feeling self-conscious, and this was not the time for that. Dean decided that he needed to make himself presentable but comfortable if he were going to pull off anything resembling confidence and dug quickly through his closet. He knew he needed to look friendly and non-threatening and decided on a light gray Henley and blue plaid overshirt and his favorite worn-in jeans. Blue was supposed to inspire thoughts of trust or reliability or something, right? Angel could just suck it up if he couldn’t deal with seeing Dean the way he normally looks; no sense in creating some sort of pretense.

Five minutes later, Dean was in his car with a fairly clear destination in mind, fifteen minutes away from his lost friend. Fortunately, Angel seemed to be in a decent part of town, but Dean still didn’t like the thought of him wandering around lost.  As Dean pulled onto the street his friend was on, his heart started to pound and his palms felt slick against the wheel. Combing the area for a black button-down with a dark red tie, and glasses, Dean spotted what he was certain was his friend and pulled up to park around the corner.

Also fortunate, was the fact that the guy had the good sense to sit down at a lighted bus stop, even if he wasn’t paying attention to his environment. Elbows on his knees and head bowed down, the black-shirted man had his fingers to his temples and was clearly questioning his life choices. Dean got out of his car and made his way cautiously toward the man on the bench, and as he got closer, his heart threatened to climb up his throat. There was no way that could be who he thought it was.

“Angel?” Dean asked timidly.

***

Castiel could feel his anxiety starting to cut through the haze of the alcohol and wished desperately that his body wouldn’t metabolize it quite so quickly. He could still feel it affecting him physically, but the mental relaxation was fading as a tension headache started to take its place. Quite frankly, he felt like an ass for calling Chief and was starting to wonder what in the hell he’d been thinking. Clearly, the answer was that he hadn’t been. His thoughts were still fuzzy, but he was definitely aware enough to realize that any minute now he was going to have to spend time in a small space with a man that he’d never met who just so happens to have been on the receiving end of Castiel’s boldest advances to date. Borderline mortified at this realization, his breaths started to come faster and all he could do was stare at the concrete beneath his feet. There’s no way that Chief wouldn’t be able to see through Castiel’s bullshit immediately, because anonymous risk-free Castiel was a much different creature than fidgety nervous in-person Castiel. Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t even hear the man approach and was startled to hear that deep voice saying his moniker…shyly?

Castiel’s head snapped up and he really wished he hadn’t, as it took a second for his vision to catch up with the movement and made the ache in his head flare up. As the man before him came into focus, Castiel felt his stomach drop to his toes and he wondered for a moment if he was more inebriated than he’d thought.

“Chief?”

The man nodded dumbly for a second before he found his voice. “Yeah,” he said a little too loudly.

Castiel felt his face heat up in embarrassment at the confirmation.

“Of course it’s you. Shit, this is awkward,” Castiel mumbled, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses.

“Well don’t sound too excited to see me or anything. I’ll call you a cab if you’d rather-“

“No!” Castiel interrupted. _Of course I’d fuck it up in less than a minute. Damage control, now,_ he thought to himself. “I mean, it’s just that I owe you an apology. I don’t normally mow people over and then give them ‘the stink-eye’, as you put it, according to Chuck. So, I’m sorry.” Yeah, he wasn’t quite ready to explain exactly why he’d behaved that way yet.

The man laughed lightly and moved to lean on one of the posts that held up the awning for the bus stop. His laughter was short-lived though, and now it was his own turn to flush red and look down. Castiel realized that Dean must have just remembered the nickname that was born of that incident and couldn’t help the smirk that formed across his lips. Finally, he was back on top, at least for the moment. This was closer to the dynamic he was used to.

“He told you, didn’t he?” Dean asked flatly.

Castiel’s laughter bubbled up at the look on Dean’s face, now that he was able to see that the expression that went with the tone he’d heard on more than one occasion. “What? You mean about Broody-Face?”

Dean groaned and scrubbed a hand over his face, the movement making him look ridiculously endearing. Who would’ve thought that such a dorky man could be hidden beneath all _that_?

“Well, if I had a real name to call you by, I would.” Dean took a step forward and stuck out his hand. “So hi, I’m Dean Winchester,” he said with mock formality.

 “I know; Jo told me your name. But all the same, hello, Dean,” he said with a small grin as he extended his own hand, grateful that Dean used the opportunity to pull him to his feet. “My name is Castiel Novak. And I’m honestly not sure if I’m too drunk or not drunk enough right now.”

 Dean let out nervous laugh and ended with a loud exhale. “You’re telling me, Angel. Er, sorry Cas. Jesus, this is a clusterfuck. I mean what the fuck, right?” Dean rubbed his forehead and looked down, only then realizing that they hadn’t yet released their hands from the handshake. Looking at their joined hands, Dean saw the long graceful fingers and remembered that he knew exactly where those hands have been and swallowed thickly as he let go.

Castiel grinned and swayed slightly, leaning into Dean’s personal space. “Cas? Hmmm…I think I like that. And Dean suits you much better than Chief, even if it is just another version of the name.” Castiel giggled a little. “You’re such a shit,” he said with a grin. “Because of reasons,” he muttered playfully.  

Dean risked a hand to Castiel’s back and steered him toward the Impala. “Yeah, well, you’re one to talk, letting me call you Angel. Angel of fucking Thursday!” Dean laughed and shook his head. Castiel stopped walking and looked at Dean with something akin to wonder and warmth in his eyes that made Dean’s chest tighten.

“You’re the first person outside of my family’s circles to know that upon meeting me.” Again, with the look, and it caught Dean off guard. Considering the stoicism he’d witnessed previously, it was strange seeing his impression of the man being shattered as they spoke, even if he did already have firsthand knowledge of his personality.

“Well, my Uncle Bobby’s always been into that supernatural stuff and has a library full of lore on any creature, religion, or mythology you could imagine. Kind of grew up with it.” Dean shrugged.

Once they got to the car, Dean opened the passenger door and placed a gentle hand on top of Castiel’s head as he ducked into the car. Although it was clear that Castiel had started sobering up since the phone call earlier, Dean still didn’t want him to end up unconscious from banging into the car. After Dean was settled in his own seat and they were both buckled, he looked over. “Look, I know you’re not fond of the privacy violation and all, but you gotta tell me where you live so I can get you home.” Of course he didn’t want to drop Castiel off just yet, but he figured that it would be beneficial to show Castiel that he could trust Dean to not try anything untoward.

Castiel shrugged. “I guess there isn’t much point anymore, is there? And Jo trusts you, anyway.”

Fifteen minutes and some awkward small talk later they were pulling up to Castiel’s apartment and he squinted at the driveway and motioned toward a black Mercedes. “Balthazar must have come back here.”

Dean frowned and stared down the offending car. “That’s a pretty dick move, Cas. Leaving you at the club and coming back to _your_ house without _you_?”

Castiel shrugged and unbuckled his seatbelt and Dean felt a little pang that Castiel didn’t see anything unusual about being ditched like that. “Thank you for the ride, Dean. It’s been nice meeting you officially, even if a bit confusing. Call you tomorrow? You know, when I’m more in my right mind?” Dean nodded, and with that Castiel was out the door, leaving the Impala to feel immediately colder. Dean watched Castiel get his door unlocked and was putting the car in reverse when he saw the man freeze and pull the door shut again and run down the steps, back toward the car. He opened the door and got right back in with a disturbed look on his face.

After a few moments he turned to look at Dean with apology in his eyes and a blush rising to his cheeks. “I’m sorry to ask this, but may I go home with you? It appears that my brother is hosting an orgy in my living room.”

Dean’s eyebrows rose nearly into his hairline before he burst out laughing. “Are you serious? Oh my god, Cas, I’m sorry man. How sober are you feeling _now_?” He was chuckling as he put the car in gear, assuming that the action would be answer enough.

Castiel rubbed his hands down his face dramatically and groaned. “Pretty fucking sober now. God _damn_ , I didn’t want to see that. Not my brother, anyway.” He visibly shuddered and pulled out his phone. “He yelled something about checking my texts.” After tapping through menus for a moment, Castiel’s face fell. “Okay, so he did warn me. Shit, I wish I’d seen this before now.”

Dean cackled, earning a stink eye. “You know what Cas? Maybe this is karma paying you back for that Newt Gingrich text,” he said with a shit-eating grin.

Castiel really did wish he could be irritated with Dean, but those damned eye crinkles were making it challenging. Instead he settled for an eyeroll. “You just wait. I’m certain that karma will have something equally scarring waiting for you at some point.”

Dean took his eyes off the road to glance at Castiel incredulously. “Is that a threat? And don’t you shrug at me,” he said as he saw Castiel’s shoulder twitch. Castiel gave him a tiny grin, but didn’t answer, knowing exactly what he was doing because it was just as easy to stir Dean up in person as it was over the phone. Castiel mused to himself that it might be even more fun in person, just because now he had more than his own voice to work with. Dean sighed loudly and shook his head in mock irritation, but didn’t say anything else on the matter.

In fact, neither man said anything else for the next twenty minutes as they made their way to Dean’s apartment, but this time the silence wasn’t quite as awkward. If nothing else, both of them were lost in their own worlds as they drove, Castiel marveling at the car and how well it fit its owner, and Dean thinking about how much he liked seeing that particular man in his passenger seat.

 


	9. Chapter 9

"So, uh, sorry it’s nothing fancy, but it’s home,” Dean said as they pulled up.

Castiel waved his comment off. “Dean, it’s fine, please don’t apologize. If anything, I should, for inviting myself over like a heathen with no manners.” He looked down and fiddled with the end of his tie.

Dean leaned over and elbowed him. “Hey, stop that. It’s all good, man. Now let’s get inside and get some food in you.”

Once inside, Dean shucked his jacket and kicked off his shoes, as if the items would burn him if he left them on too long. Castiel, ever one to enjoy his comfort, followed suit and took off his own shoes and loosened his tie. He felt a small bit of irritation that he couldn’t just strip to his underwear like normal, but needing to exit his comfort zone was exactly why Balthazar had dragged him out. Castiel could feel Dean’s eyes on him and swallowed as he looked over to see Dean following the movements of his hands. When their eyes met, Dean looked away and cleared his throat before scurrying over to the kitchen, which was open to the living room.

“So I hope breakfast is okay,” Dean said as he ducked into the fridge, glad to hide his face. This was going to be harder than he thought. Having the subject of more than one dirty thought standing in your living room is bad enough, but knowing that it’s someone you also view as a friend is exhausting. Moving efficiently, Dean rifled through drawers and cabinets until he had everything out that he would need to cook with, glad to have something to keep his hands busy while he had his little freak out. While the skillet heated on the stove for the bacon, he busied himself with getting a plate and several paper towels out to drain it on.

Castiel watched Dean’s stiff and harried movements, the tension in the muscles of the man’s shoulders evident, and felt guilty for being the cause. Dean hummed quietly as he worked, but it didn’t seem like he was doing it out of enjoyment so much as trying to ground himself. Castiel wondered if Dean had tuned out the world at the moment, so when he approached Dean he laid a gentle hand to his shoulder, trying not to startle him while he was handling hot cookware.

“Shit!” Dean yelped, clearly startled by the touch. Castiel yanked his hand away and took a step back, looking at the floor. “Jesus Cas, you need a bell or something.” Dean took a deep breath and then forced a grin.

Castiel looked up and tilted his head slightly, reminding Dean of a confused kitten. “Am I making you nervous, Dean?”

Dean’s shoulders lowered fractionally as he noted the earnestness in those stupidly blue eyes. “Cas, can I be honest here for a minute?”

“Of course,” Castiel said seriously.

“Okay, so I’m having a hard time here, wrapping my mind around all this. On the one hand, I know you,” Dean tapped at his own temple. “But on the other, I don’t know _you_.” Dean made a sweeping gesture to indicate the man in front of him. “Maybe that sounds weird; it’s kind of hard to explain. And well,” Dean blushed furiously and looked down, “we know stuff about each other that two people that just met shouldn’t know, and it’s hard trying to ignore that.” He chose to leave out the part where he felt like he was trying to reconcile the three different versions of Cas he had in his head; the one from the phone, the one from the store, and the one in his fantasies.

“Yeah, I know,” Castiel said shyly, looking off to the side, as he thought for a moment. “Dean, I think we should deal with the elephant right now, or it’s going to make things a lot more awkward.”

“Okaaay?”

Castiel decided if there were ever a time to dredge up bravado, this was it, and he sighed inwardly. “I’m going to be honest, Dean. I find you extremely attractive, and I don’t really like the idea of having to pretend that I don’t so that we can both ignore the well-established fact that we’ve gotten off together. Personally, I don’t see the point of pretending it didn’t happen.”

Dean gaped at Castiel for a moment, shocked by his candor, even though the other man had given him fair warning. Castiel’s gaze didn’t waver as he waited for Dean’s response, making Dean feel utterly exposed. “I uh…shit, dude. How can you just stand there all calm like that?” Seeing Castiel’s frown, Dean realized that his reaction might have been misinterpreted as regret and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration with himself. “No Cas, it’s not like that. Let me pull the bacon off real quick before it burns and then we can finish this, alright?”

Castiel nodded and felt his face heat with disappointment, certain that Dean was about to ‘let him down easy’. The problem with an inebriated Castiel had never been that he didn’t know what he was doing. Even drunk, he still maintained a better sense of consciousness of himself and others than most people. It was just that alcohol relaxed him enough to not care as much, which at this time didn’t seem to have served him well. Castiel was startled when Dean appeared in front of him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Stop that. You don’t get to assume that I don’t want you here just because I’m shitty at this kind of stuff, okay? I mean, what do you expect me to do?” Dean pulled his hand back and ran it roughly through his own hair. “You’re a goddamned ‘Sexy Librarian’, Cas, standing in my kitchen with your stupid sex hair and talking about our orgasms. So yeah, I’m a little out of my depth here, okay?”

The chuckle that came from Castiel surprised them both, and Dean’s stomach flipped at the memory of other times he’d heard that sound and what it did to him.

“Sexy Librarian? Is that a thing for you?” Castiel asked with an arched brow. Knowing that he had the ability to fluster the ridiculously handsome man in front of him made Castiel’s confidence bloom in a way that he would typically only be able to muster while being a faceless voice.

“Uh,” Dean said, clearly caught off guard by the change in the other man’s demeanor. Realizing that Castiel had simply needed some kind of confirmation that the attraction was mutual, Dean felt more in control of the situation now and grinned to himself. “So what if it is?” he flirted shamelessly. Feeling emboldened, Dean allowed himself to rake his gaze across Castiel from head to toe teasingly. Of course he couldn’t help but admire the snug jeans (Is that all he owns?), black shirt that maybe made the man look a tad badass, and the tie that he really wanted to wrap his hand in and pull toward him.

As unnerving as it was to be under Dean’s scrutiny like that, Castiel refused to look away and give Dean the satisfaction. “Are you done?” he smirked. Dean’s face fell a little and he glanced to the side in embarrassment at being called out, which Castiel couldn’t help but find, well, cute. Putting his hands in his pockets to feign nonchalance, Castiel took a step forward. “Look at me, Dean,” he said, voice pitched low, knowing the effect it would have.

Green eyes snapping to meet blue, Dean’s pupils dilated and Castiel relished the reaction. “Turnabout is fair play, you know. My turn now, and keep your eyes on me.” Dean swallowed and tried to smirk, but they both knew better. Castiel took his sweet time, observing the shape of Dean’s lips, the curve of his neck, the musculature of his torso, and purposely lingering for a second on his hips just to make Dean squirm, before continuing to his legs and back up. To his credit, Dean never looked away, but he did shift from foot to foot. Castiel knew that the look on his face was probably fairly predatory, but rather than feeling embarrassed about it, it actually had the opposite effect as he saw Dean’s reaction to it. He still couldn’t grasp how he could possibly have that kind of effect on a man like Dean, but he also wasn’t about to just ignore it, the way it felt to be desired so openly.

“I believe we’re even now, so if we’re done with this pissing contest, move over.” Castiel laid a gentle hand on Dean’s side to move him, but the man didn’t budge, looking confused. Castiel rolled his eyes as he dropped his hand. “If you’ll move, I’ll cook the eggs. It’s the least I can do for taking over your night and invading your house.”

Dean relented and stepped to the side. “God, you’re bossy.” A minute later, he added, “I’m glad you’re here, though.”

Castiel grabbed an egg and cracked it expertly, one-handed, adding salt to the bowl with the other and nodded to himself. “Thank you, Dean,” he said quietly, without looking up. Cracking three more eggs in the same manner in rapid succession, Dean found himself mesmerized by the practiced movements and his mind wandered toward how that control probably transferred over to his fighting skills as well. Admittedly, it was odd trying to imagine the gentle-looking lean man in front of him wielding a weapon or fighting, but Dean couldn’t deny that Castiel was graceful, and all of his movements purposeful. Even the way he whisked the eggs was efficient. Of course this turned toward sexier thoughts as Dean tried to justify the noises he’d heard before with the person he could see in front of him and how those purposeful movements would translate in bed. He must’ve been staring, because Castiel looked over questioningly.

When he opened his mouth, Dean meant to say something about the awesome egg-cracking. Instead he blurted, “I don’t mind that you’re bossy.” Internally face palming that that was what his mouth had chosen to go with, Dean snapped his mouth shut and looked down.

Castiel laughed lightly as he pushed the eggs around the pan. “I know,” he grinned. Then he removed the eggs from the heat and turned off the stove before searching for plates and forks. Plating up the food he handed one to Dean, who was trying and failing to look indignant. If anything, Dean just looked like he couldn’t decide on a comeback and finally settled on “asshole.”

With a shrug, Castiel walked over to the table and sat down, glad to have the food. Although he was only buzzed anymore, he was starting to feel faint from the lack of proper calories. Dean sat down across from him, setting down a bottle of water for each of them. They ate in silence for a few minutes, and as the food hit their blood streams, they each calmed a bit, relaxing into each other’s presence. Castiel took the opportunity to glance around the apartment and noted that while on the surface it seemed impersonal, it was comfortable. What it lacked in decoration and personality, it made up for with a comfortable looking couch with a soft-looking blanket piled on one end, a fairly new TV, and two bookcases (one full of books, the other full of movies). Sure, the apartment may lack sentiment, but Castiel was aware of the complexity of Dean Winchester and was unsurprised that the man would choose items that brought him comfort directly, rather than by reminder (like pictures). The place was warm and homey in its own way, much like the occupant itself.

Finishing off his plate, Dean leaned back and scratched lazily at his abdomen. “Damn, Cas. I don’t know what you did, but those eggs were way better than mine. Gonna have to do that again sometime.”

Castiel grinned shyly. “Thanks. And I think I’d like that. Something better than eggs, though.”

Dean felt warmth spread through his chest at the look he was getting, so much like the one from earlier when he knew about Castiel’s name. The man was truly a confusing character, in the best way. It shouldn’t be possible to be apologetic, snarky, blunt, nervous, flirty, commanding, and soft all in less than two hours. Of course Dean had been aware of the many facets of Castiel’s personality beforehand, but it was a whole other world to witness it in the flesh. Dean was learning quickly that while some of Castiel’s facial expressions were open (like surprise or humor), there always seemed to be something more, right beneath the surface, hidden in the subtle changes in his eyes. Here was this man sitting across from him that didn’t take any of his shit, was quickly meeting about ninety percent of his kinks, already liked Dean the way he was, and was now offering to cook for him while giving him that look.

Finally breaking the staring contest, Dean rose up to take their plates to the sink and on an impulse, dipped down to place a kiss to the top of Cas’ head as he walked by. “I don’t know what to do with you, Cas,” he said as he deposited the dishes in the sink.

The gentle affection took Castiel by surprise and he struggled for a response. _Keep being my friend? Don’t ditch me? Put your hands on me?_ Coming to the conclusion that there isn’t a whole lot you can say to something like that without sounding either needy or arrogant, he gave up trying. Dean walked back over to him and flicked his tie.

“Come on man, time to get comfy. I’m gonna go see if I can hunt down something for you to lounge in, and why don’t you go find something on TV?”

Castiel’s shoulders immediately relaxed at the thought of getting out of his clothes. “Oh thank god. Usually I’d have been out of my day clothes for hours by now.”

Dean grinned and disappeared into a room down the narrow hallway off to the side and returned a couple minutes later wearing sweatpants and an old black t-shirt with a hole next to the collar, hands full of more clothes. “I think these should fit alright, with the drawstring and all,” he said as he handed over the clothes.

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel took the clothes and headed into the bathroom, grateful to finally peel off the clothes that held the grime of the day and the club that Balthazar had taken him to. The shirt that Dean had supplied was soft and thin, clearly a cherished item that had been worn and washed many times. Noting the faded AC/DC emblem, Castiel grinned and chuckled to himself at the Dean-ness of it. The shirt even smelled like Dean (something faintly like coriander), although he wasn’t sure when he’d observed Dean’s smell enough to recognize it, especially over the fragrance of detergent and fabric softener. Pulling on the flannel pants and gathering his own clothes, Castiel sighed, as the tension of the day started to melt away now that he was more comfortable. Plus, it was also helped that the food had done its job, leaving him feeling pleasantly relaxed and a bit tired, but no longer fuzzy in the brain.

When Castiel emerged from the bathroom, his whole demeanor had changed into something much calmer, and it secretly pleased Dean that the man looked at ease in his apartment. Never mind the possessive rush he felt at seeing Castiel wearing his clothes. Considering Castiel’s orderly nature, it surprised Dean to see the man just wad up his bundle of clothes and toss them onto a kitchen chair, no concern whatsoever for folding.

“What?” Castiel asked with an arched brow.

“Nothing. Just…I thought you’d be all OCD about folding up your clothes, that’s all.”

Castiel ducked his head and grinned. “I don’t have OCD, Dean. I just like order. But I will confess that it doesn’t seem cross over to every part of my life.”

Dean’s eyes crinkled up in that grin that Castiel had grown fond of. “Cas, are you saying that your house is messy?”

“Maybe,” Castiel said as he looked to the side.

“Now that, I did not expect,” Dean grinned at the discovery. “It’s cool though; I get it. Home is where you’re supposed to be able to let go.”

Castiel made a sweeping motion to indicate the entirety of Dean’s apartment. “So where do you let go, then? Your place is rather…neat.”

Dean wasn’t sure how to answer that question because he genuinely wasn’t sure. Work came to mind,  but so did the phone time he’d shared with Castiel, and Dean started to feel embarrassed that he couldn’t say that he relaxed at home or even in a physical place. It must’ve shown on his face because Castiel’s eyes softened and he grabbed Dean’s wrist to tug him to the couch.

“Come on, Dean. We’re going to sit on the couch and you’re going to try and relax, because this is your home and you deserve that.”

Dean allowed himself to be pulled over to the living area and Castiel took the end of the couch. “Now, lie down and put your head on my lap.” At Dean’s incredulous look, Castiel continued. “Just humor me, alright?”

When Dean lay down on his side facing the TV, he really wasn’t sure what to expect, but Castiel’s legs were comfortable and radiating warmth through the thin material of his pants. Once his shoulders and back started to relax, Dean felt Castiel shift minutely and then the man’s hand was in his hair. The intimacy of it made him tense again, but Castiel simply moved his hand to rub gently at the muscles of his neck beneath his ear.

“Try to relax, Dean. You’re in your living room and the day is over. You have food in your stomach, you are safe, and have nowhere to be. Everything is okay, so just let go for a while,” Castiel said soothingly. He then moved his hand to scratch gently at the base of Dean’s skull, moving slowly upward along his hairline and massaging his thumb gently at his temple. Between the deep timbre of Castiel’s voice and the comforting touch, Dean’s eyes fluttered closed and he let out a deep breath as the tension in his body started to ease. “Thank you, Dean. I’m going to continue doing this, and you should continue allowing yourself to have it, if you want it.” Dean wanted to rebel against the order, but it had been given in the same manner as telling someone to go lie down when they’re sick and trying to ignoretheir ailment; a tone that he himself was well-versed in, having used it so many times on Sam over the course of his life.  

Dean started to feel overwhelmed by Castiel’s assurances and affections and rolled a bit, so as to obscure at least part of his face in Castiel’s lap. If Castiel noticed Dean’s emotional battle with himself, he graciously didn’t say anything. Instead, he moved his free hand to scratch along Dean’s back in slow, sweeping rounded motions, while the thumb of his other hand rubbed absently along his neck below his ear. Dean could feel his body relaxing more with each passing minute, even as his chest ached. It was a pleasant surprise, to learn that underneath Castiel’s typically cool, snarky exterior was a kind, affectionate individual, and Dean wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. Honestly, Dean felt a bit pathetic; he wasn’t supposed to need this, much less be so transparent that an almost complete stranger could see it. It had always been his job to be the caretaker, and at this point he just didn’t know how to be anything else. Regardless, he couldn’t convince himself at the moment to not indulge in this, even if it did make him feel a bit greedy. He felt, before he heard, the sigh coming from above him. Over time, Dean had gotten used to the fact that Castiel seemed to always know what he was thinking and was aware that the sigh had been aimed at him. No words accompanied it though.

At some point during the petting and monotone narrative of a show on seahorses, Dean and Castiel both had dozed off on the couch. Castiel was the first to startle, when the show went off and the quietness was replaced with the garish noise and lighting of a late-night infomercial. His own jerking movement woke Dean, who involuntarily gripped at Castiel’s knee before rolling over confusedly to see who he was laying on. Memory coming back, he blinked a couple times and moved to sit up as Castiel found the remote and turned the TV off. Taking his glasses off, Castiel deposited them on the end table and rubbed his eyes as he stretched his entire body in a cat-like manner, shirt riding up as his body slithered halfway down the couch. Eventually returning to a more upright position, he took a deep breath and looked over to Dean, who was staring unabashedly at where Castiel’s hipbones lay under his shirt. Reaching his left hand over, he rubbed briskly at Dean’s back and yawned out what sounded like, “Go to bed, Dean.” Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Castiel chuckled and elbowed him.

“We’ll talk about that in the morning,” he grinned.

“Dude, why didn’t tell me you had tattoos?” Dean asked.

Castiel shrugged. “It didn’t seem relevant. Not like I thought you’d ever see them. Now go get some rest.”

With his glasses off, Castiel looked tired now, so Dean decided to drop it. “Fine, bossy-ass,” he grumbled as he stood up.

Castiel chuckled. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night night, Angel.”

Both men paused and stared at each other for a moment, before Castiel smirked, and Dean rolled his eyes in good humor. “I’m sorry, habit,” he said as he scrubbed a hand over his face.

“It’s fine, Dean. I- I actually don’t really mind,” Castiel said as he glanced down at his hands.

“Hmmm…good to know,” Dean said quietly, volleying Cas' words back at him. And with a wink and a clap to Castiel’s shoulder, he turned and went to his room.

Castiel stared at Dean’s closed door for a moment and wondered if it was possible to categorize a wink as a weapon. The phrase ‘weapon of mass seduction’ popped into his head, and he scoffed at his own terrible pun. Then he lay down and pulled the blanket up as he muttered to himself, “incorrigible ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me a minute to get this chapter out...editing was a beast, and I'm a little obsessive about it. Thank you for your patience, though...you shall be rewarded with smut soon ;D


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I said that this chapter would be sexy times, but at the behest of AccidentallyShipping (and my own concerns), decided to split it off so that the smut could get its own chapter. So please don't be mad, I swear it's being put off with the best of intentions.

Castiel woke first. Unpleasant dreams were common for him, but they didn’t usually wake him up like this, and especially without being able to remember any of it. This one had left him covered in an uncomfortable, although thin, layer of sweat that had his shirt clinging to him. Sitting up, he pushed off the blanket and peeled off the offending shirt, sighing as the cool air brushed past his skin. The clock above the TV showed it to be a little bit before noon. Brushing off the after-haze of the dreams like always, he stood up and shuffled to the bathroom. The skin on his face felt tight and dry and his neck was itchy, so he splashed water over his face and rubbed his wet hands over his neck, enjoying the cool sensation as his mind cleared. Going against his own rules of manners involving the respect of privacy, Castiel dug around the various drawers of the vanity until he found an unopened toothbrush and set to work, glad to brush away the remnants of the night before. Feeling more human, he made his way to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee before sifting through the cabinets and fridge. Still embarrassed about the whole ‘Hey, I’m drunk, can I come home with you?’ situation, he figured he still owed Dean more than just a couple of scrambled eggs and set to weighing his options. For a man that didn’t cook often, he had a surprisingly well-stocked kitchen and Castiel was pleased to see that it extended to the collection of herbs and spices next to the stove. Hoping that Dean wasn’t dead-set against eating non-breakfast items when first waking up, Castiel took a risk and started working on a simple pasta dish that he made often for himself. While the rotini noodles were boiling, he sautéed cubed chicken breasts in olive oil, garlic, and Italian herbs, the fragrance starting to fill the kitchen with a warm scent.

The smell of coffee and then shortly thereafter, food being cooked, crept under Dean’s door and drew him out of his room. The fact that it didn’t smell anything like breakfast food didn’t deter his interest and he padded to the bathroom quickly, ready to get back out and see what was happening in his kitchen. When he made it to the living room, he was stopped dead in his tracks by the sight before him of a shirtless Castiel, seasoning the food with easy flicks of his wrist. Nothing resembling a measuring spoon was in sight and this was clearly a man that cooked without recipes, trusting his senses to know exactly how to produce the right flavors. Although it made Dean cringe to see him risking a burn to his uncovered torso, there was something unmistakably sexy about seeing the other man looking so at home, cooking shirtless in his apartment as if he’d always done it, sleep-mussed hair and all. There was also something hypnotic about the flex of the muscles in his back and defined lean arms as he reached this way or that for a utensil or stove knob. And Christ, were those feathers inked on his shoulder?

Then Castiel just had to turn around. Dean felt his mouth go dry as he took in the sight of the most ridiculous hipbones in the history of ever, each graced with a tattoo that disappeared into the waistband of the obscenely low-slung pajama pants. With great effort, Dean forced his eyes to move back upward, to meet with Castiel’s, but not before traveling over the smooth planes of his stomach and then getting hung up on- are you shitting me?- a small bar, piercing the man’s left nipple. When his eyes were finally able to make it to their destination, Dean saw that Castiel was blushing fiercely and looking to the side, wooden spoon hanging forgotten from his hand.

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Dean could feel his own blush rising in his cheeks. “Shit! Er, sorry Cas. I just wasn’t expecting…well…sorry,” he floundered.

Turning back to the stove, Castiel stirred the chicken again and spoke without turning around. “Well, it looks like you got up just in time. Mind to drain the noodles?”

Dean made his way over to the stove and Castiel scooted back to give him room as he gathered the pasta pot and dumped it into the strainer waiting in the sink. After the majority of the steam had billowed away and the noodles were shaken gently, Dean returned them to the pot and placed it on an unused burner. Feeling like an asshole for ogling Castiel openly enough to make the normally unflappable man blush, Dean scooted away and grabbed for a coffee cup. Here was this kind man, cooking for him after taking care of him the night before, and what did Dean do? Stare him down like some perv and make him uncomfortable, unlike last night when it was all flirtatious games. It also didn’t help Dean’s ego that he’d only spent twelve hours around the guy and was already fantasizing about the domesticity of the scene like the needy bastard he hated that he secretly was.

While Dean was busy brooding over his coffee, Castiel had put the finishing touches on the food and dished out a couple of bowls of the concoction.

“Hope you don’t mind eating pasta for breakfast, but I figured after having breakfast food the last time we ate I could switch it up,” Castiel said quickly. Dean realized at that moment that the other man was nervous about the cooking and his heart clenched.

“Cas, it’s cool man. It looks really good…the smell alone,” Dean said as he took an appreciative whiff of the bowl he’d been handed.

Sitting at the table, the two men spoke very little as they ate, the tension only punctuated with Dean’s groans of approval and the clink of forks against the bowls. Sure, Dean seemed pleasant enough at the moment, but the underlying nervousness from the night before had returned along with something else and Castiel couldn’t figure out exactly what the issue was. Regardless, he knew it was in response to his own presence and didn’t like that he seemed to be making Dean so antsy in his own home. After a few minutes, Castiel heaved a deep sigh and took a large sip of water before setting his fork down pointedly in his bowl.

“I’ll call Balthazar to come get me here in a minute. I’m sorry I’ve made you uncomfortable, Dean, it was never my intention.”

“What? No! I mean, it’s not you, okay?” Dean hunched over, resting his elbows on the table and scratching at the stubble over his throat.

Castiel leaned back in his seat with eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? The ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line? I’m a big boy, Dean, I can handle the truth.” The beat too long that it took Dean to respond left Castiel’s stomach lurching and he reached over to the chair next to himself to gather up his wad of clothes and stood, feeling suddenly vulnerable without his normal layers. He didn’t know what was about to happen, but he certainly wanted to have a bit of dignity while it was happening, especially if he needed to walk out of the apartment in the next few minutes.

Assuming that the other man meant to get dressed and leave, Dean felt a wave of irritation and panic and stood up, shooting his hand out to wrap around Castiel’s wrist and stop his movements.

“Now hang on just a goddamn minute! Do I even get to say anything, or are you gonna just take right off and leave me here looking like an asshole?” It came out a bit louder and harsher than Dean intended.

“Dean, I’m not angry, but I’m also not going to stick around like some one-night stand that fell asleep on you. If you view our meeting as a mistake, please just say so and don’t bullshit me.”

Although his face was composed, Castiel’s eyes showed a disappointment that made Dean’s chest hurt. He relaxed his grip on Castiel’s wrist, but didn’t let go. “Cas, I’m not bullshitting you! Fucking Christ, just give me a minute okay?” Dean took a deep breath and Castiel trained his gaze upon him, waiting patiently this time for Dean to say his piece. “I really am glad that you came here, but look at me, man! I’m a fucking mess.” Dean threw his hands up in the air in a hopeless gesture. “And you don’t know me, Cas. It’s not fair to you, okay? I’m moody and distant; I drink alone, spend most of my time at work, and am utter crap at feelings stuff.  And while you’re sitting around writing a freaking novel and wearing professor clothes, I’m digging grease from under my nails and eating takeout straight from the box.”

Castiel remained silent through Dean’s tirade, taking it all in with a blank face until Dean was done speaking. Taking the pause for what it was, Castiel stepped right up into Dean’s personal space and uttered one word with narrowed eyes. “Bullshit.”

“What?!” Dean’s eyes went almost comically wide with confusion at Castiel’s challenge.

“You heard me,” he said in a low voice that reminded Dean of distant thunder. He tried desperately to ignore the pleasant way it made the hair on his neck stand up. “While I don’t doubt that you really do feel so poorly about yourself, this isn’t about you trying to spare me. This is about the fact that you believe you don’t deserve or can’t have anything good in your life. Now look me in the eye and tell me I’m wrong,” he said in a disconcertingly calm voice, even as adrenaline pumped through his veins.

Dean looked down and Castiel took another step forward, placing firm hands on each side of Dean’s face to bring those leafy-green eyes to meet his own. “Dean, would you really take away my own choice in this matter? Did it ever occur to you that I’m aware that you’re not perfect?” he asked more softly. “We both have our issues, or we wouldn’t be in this strange situation to begin with, you know. Don’t forget that I too engaged in an anonymous relationship over the phone.”

Dean’s eyes fluttered closed and he let out a resigned breath through his nose. “Cas,” he said as he turned his head to kiss Castiel’s palm and reached up to lay a hand on one of his wrists. “I still don’t know what to do with you.”

Castiel’s hands dropped from Dean’s face and he tilted his head, a small smile threatening at the corner of his mouth. “Are you asking for a definition of this relationship?”

Dean looked upward and groaned at the other man’s uncanny ability to cut through innuendo and Castiel chuckled at the reaction.  “Well, I believe we passed the platonic friendship mile marker a couple states back, when you told me my voice was meant for phone sex.” Of course the fucker just had to go and dip his voice into that register and smirk with one eyebrow cocked. Castiel was quickly adding himself to the list of things that would be the death of Dean Winchester and Dean wasn’t sure if the man knew it or not.

The tension took on a decidedly different air, as both men were reminded that Castiel was still standing there half-naked next to the kitchen table, and Dean swallowed as he made a conscious effort not to glance down. Let no one say that Dean wasn’t stubborn. They held their gaze for several seconds before Dean couldn’t take the nervous energy anymore and barked out a laugh at their situation and ran a hand through his hair.

“What is my life, Cas? I’m arguing with a bossy, half-naked man in my kitchen that I never expected to see here, much less know by name.” Dean ran his hands down his face and laughed again. “And you want to know the worst part? God, I don’t know if I should tell you this,” Dean reddened and glanced down, but still held his humor. “Okay, so if we’re doing the honesty thing here…you’ve kind of been spank bank material for yourself.”

Castiel furrowed his brow in confusion. “Huh?” When Dean refused to look up, it clicked into place and he let out a small gasp. “Wait. You were imagining me, while talking to me, before you knew it was me.” Now it was Castiel’s turn to let out a peal of laughter and he shook his head. “Oh my god, we are idiots, Dean.” His shoulders shook as he continued chuckling in disbelief to himself.

Dean’s mouth opened in surprise as he realized what Castiel meant and his first reaction was to be cocky, but then his brow gathered in confusion. “See, this is why you confuse the hell out of me, Cas. When we saw each other before, you looked completely uninterested. And I even did the grin!” Dean gestured toward his face, which was full of confusion and a bit of poutiness that shouldn’t be adorable on a 30 year old man. Castiel reasoned that it had to be the combination of freckles and anime-esque eyes.

“Yes, and it’s a lovely grin.” Castiel patted Dean’s cheek. “But in case you weren’t aware, you don’t exactly give off a ‘hey, I also like the cock’ vibe, so I assumed you were just being friendly.”

A small tingle prickled Dean’s scalp at hearing Castiel’s words, the memory of that deep sensual timbre coming back to the surface with that one word, and his feet moved forward without his permission, into Castiel’s personal space. Putting a hand on each of Castiel’s biceps, Dean looked him in the eye with a serious expression. “Cas? I need to tell you something, man.” Then he allowed for a dramatic pause. “I do like the cock sometimes.”

The somber expression only lasted a second before a mischievous smile broke across Dean’s face and Castiel couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re such a shit, Dean,” he said as he shook his head.

Dean nodded, “True. But I don’t see you complaining.” Then he put on his best shit-eating grin and winked, pleased to see the faint blush and flash of something in Castiel’s eyes. “In fact, I think you like it,” he leered.

Yes, flirting with Castiel was quickly becoming one of Dean’s favorite past times; it had still been fun on the phone, but it didn’t hold a candle to seeing the effect he had in-person. Castiel made a good show of schooling his features, but Dean knew it was all about the eyes with that man and loved that it was taking effort for him to keep his face calm. ‘Stubborn bastard,’ Dean thought to himself with amusement.

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I'm still pretty green with smut, so apologies ahead of time. I tried!

A second glint in Castiel’s eyes was all the warning Dean got because in the next instant, Castiel was in his space, strong hands pulling Dean in by his waist. The movement was quick and graceful before soft warm lips pressed gently to his neck in an unsettling contrast to the aggressive manhandling. Then those lips were next to his ear, warm breath ghosting against sensitive skin. “Awfully smug there, Dean,” came the almost-whisper. A hard shiver travelled up Dean’s spine and Castiel chuckled before he stepped back abruptly and turned toward the table, taking his body heat with him.

Oh, hell no. Dean recovered quickly and crowded behind Castiel, pushing the man into the edge of the table, one hand curling around a hip, as the other skated across the man’s stomach, earning a hitched breath. Pressing his lips to the feather at the top of Castiel’s right shoulder and humming thoughtfully, Dean grinned into it when goosebumps appeared. “You were saying?” he murmured, before grazing his teeth right where his lips had been. Castiel shuddered under his touch and the bundle of clothes in his hands dropped to the floor. Dean smirked in satisfaction and started to move his hands away, but Castiel caught the one on his hip and held it there.

“Do you _really_ want to back away from me, Dean?” Castiel asked in that damned phone sex tone. Or maybe he'd always sounded like that. Either way, Dean’s dick twitched in interest at the thought and it was answer enough, as Castiel had felt it against his backside through the thin material of their pants. “Hmmm…that’s what I thought,” he said, head turned to glance over his shoulder. Then he turned around slowly, deliberately rubbing his ass against Dean’s crotch as he did so, earning a grunt from the taller man.

Face-to-face, Dean could now see the clear arousal in Castiel’s eyes as those graceful fingers slid slowly up Dean’s forearms and stopped to wrap around, right below his elbows. Dean was quickly becoming hyper-aware of everything about the man; the heat coming off his body, a slightly spicy scent that reminded him vaguely of incense, the pressure of fingertips on his arms. Dean was torn from his musings when Castiel leaned in and nipped at the bolt of his jaw before tonguing it lightly. “We could keep up this teasing game if you’d like, but I’d rather have your hands on me,” Castiel husked.

Castiel had never been so sexually assertive, but with Dean it was almost liberating. Apparently Dean liked it too, because he obliged eagerly with strong arms, pulling Castiel in and plush lips crashed into his own. Castiel opened up quickly, eager to finally taste the man he’d imagined when speaking his desires into the phone. Dean’s tongue swiped possessively around Castiel’s mouth while his hands slid down to cup Castiel’s ass and pull him in tighter. The kiss was broken as a soft moan escaped Castiel’s throat when Dean gave a gentle squeeze and rolled his hips.

The sound of the moan travelled straight down to Dean’s cock and he felt like he was going to starve if he didn’t hear that sound again. He squeezed a little harder this time as he grazed his teeth along Castiel’s pulse point before licking a stripe across the spot. As an afterthought, Dean blew gently across the wetness and felt a whole-body shudder go through Castiel that caused a glorious stuttered breath to escape his lips.

Castiel wasn’t sure when his hands had moved to start pulling at the hem of Dean’s shirt, but he wasn’t surprised that they seemed to take on a mind of their own in regard to getting Dean Winchester naked. Taking the hint, Dean pulled his shirt off with an exuberance that made Castiel chuckle fondly as he heard a stitch pop in the neck of the old shirt. And yes, Dean was indeed just as magnificent shirtless as Castiel had expected. His skin was faintly tanned and smooth, lending Dean a glow that suited him. Castiel liked the fact that Dean had a slight softness lying over the solid muscles that were just beneath the surface; Dean wasn’t perfect and sculpted, but that was fine because his body gave the impression of strength meshed with comfort. He smiled internally that Dean really was so much like his car, but let the thought pass quickly.

“Magnificent,” Castiel blurted, before he could stop himself. Dean’s look turned unexpectedly bashful and Castiel leaned in, trailing one hand down Dean’s front as he proceeded to kiss his way along the man’s jaw until he got to his ear and nipped gently at the lobe.

“Cas…”

Castiel hummed his contentment at hearing Dean breathe his name and flicked the freshly-nipped lobe lightly with the tip of his tongue as his hand trailed further, to run a teasing finger up the length of Dean’s rapidly hardening cock.  Dean’s breath caught in his throat as he opened his mouth to speak, but Castiel cut him off with a dominating kiss before pulling back and looking Dean square in the eye.

“I’m going to go get naked in your bed now,” Castiel said much too calmly, in Dean’s opinion. And just like that, Castiel turned on his heel and strode purposefully toward the hallway, thumbs hooking into the waistband of his pants and pushing them down as he walked right out of them. It was a rather short distance, so by the time Dean’s brain caught back up, Castiel was only a few feet from the door to the bedroom.

“Dammit Cas!” Dean huffed as he didn’t jog to get to the door first.

Castiel paused and put on a full-blown smile and laughed lightly. “You had me worried, Dean. I thought I was going to have to just imagine your mouth on my cock again.” The gravel of Castiel’s voice had dipped to dangerous levels and then…then the little fucker winked. Dean felt his heart pound at the challenge as a thin sheen of sweat prickled the back of his neck.

With a growl, Dean pushed Castiel into the wall next to the doorframe and went for a full-on assault of the man’s mouth, grinding his hips against Castiel’s. Dean distinctly felt Castiel’s dick harden further against him and a fresh wave of need pulsed in his abdomen. Reaching down, Dean ran a firm hand down Castiel’s still-clothed erection, allowing his fingertips to tease lightly at the other man’s balls. Bucking into the touch, Castiel moaned and sucked at Dean’s bottom lip.

Pulling away from the kiss, Dean hooked his thumbs in the waistband of Castiel’s briefs and grinned devilishly at the look of disappointment on Castiel’s face when no further movement was made. “You know, I could’ve sworn you said something about getting naked in my bed.”

Castiel huffed and rolled his eyes before batting Dean’s hands away to stroll casually over to the bed. “Says the asshat that distracted me.” Unceremoniously, he pushed his underwear off and perched on the side of the bed, sending a heated gaze Dean’s way that had him rooted to the spot. “Your turn, Winchester,” Castiel said with a wink as he leaned back on one hand and started to stoke himself lazily with the other, brazenly maintaining eye contact.

Dean’s eyes widened briefly. “Christ Cas! You can’t just wait, can you?” He pulled his pants and boxers off in one quick movement and walked the three steps over to the bed. Castiel visibly swallowed at the up-close view of Dean’s cock as the man stood obscenely close to him before dropping gracefully to his knees. His hands went straight to Castiel’s knees, pushing them apart as warm calloused palms slid upward. Castiel gave up stroking himself, propping himself up with both hands on the bed behind him to give Dean more room. Dean took the opportunity for what it was and leaned in to suck a mark on Castiel’s inner thigh while the thumb of one hand rubbed teasingly at the juncture of thigh and groin. Dean licked and sucked his way up that thigh at an almost agonizing pace, more than a little turned on at the thought that Castiel would be carrying his marks all through work the next day. Castiel had started to squirm and groan a frustrated sound and Dean looked up through his lashes to see pre-come beading at the head of the other man’s dick. Dean took a moment to appreciate it because it really was a nice one, impressive without being too big around and a hair longer than his own with a slight curvature. Really though, where in the hell had Castiel been stowing it in all those tight pa-

“Dean.”

Dean looked up at the impatient tone to see Castiel’s glare that was somehow adorable. Dean shook his head as he straightened up, placing his hands on the bed on either side of Castiel’s hips. “Patience, Cas. I want to savor you. Lay back.”

Castiel scooted back to lay on the bed and Dean crawled up with him, dipping his head down to lick at a tattooed hipbone. “Wanted you since the first time I saw you,” he murmured against the delicate leaf pattern, tonguing along the edges of the design before kissing and licking his way up Castiel’s ribs. He made a note to ask about the pattern later, as it appeared to be sprigs of laurel. Dean paused right above the pierced nipple and cocked an eyebrow as he caught Castiel’s eye before flicking the tip of his tongue across the delicate flesh, almost too softly. Castiel hissed and bucked upward, seeking friction that Dean wasn’t allowing, body hovering just out of reach. With a wicked grin, he dipped down again, tonguing gingerly around the nipple and bar with decidedly more pressure.

“Deeeaan,” Castiel groaned loudly this time, hips bucking harder as his eyes fluttered shut.

For good measure, Dean blew gently across the spit-slicked skin and the man beneath him gasped, eyes snapping open into a scowl. Castiel had been playing along and keeping his hands at his sides, but that little puff of air was enough and one hand flew up to fist in Dean’s hair, tugging the man’s head up to meet his gaze. The grip was just on this side of painful and Dean couldn’t help the needy whine that escaped his throat. “I suggest you move this along, or I’ll do it for you. It’s been too long for me, Dean.”

The look in Castiel’s eyes was hot and left no room for argument and quite frankly, Dean had no desire to argue. Seeing that his point had been made, Castiel released his grip and let his hands trail down Dean’s back to get a hold of the firm ass he’d been sneaking greedy glances at since the night before. Without further ado, he pulled Dean’s hips down to meet his own, bringing their bodies into the blessed contact he’d been craving. Both men groaned at the sensation of heated flesh finally joining and immediately started rutting into each other at a hurried pace.

“Dean…hnnng…”

Dean recognized that pitch; Castiel was already worked up. Dipping his hips down for a particularly hard grind, Dean leaned in to suck a bruising kiss to Castiel’s collarbone before licking at it gently. “How do you want to come, Angel?”

Castiel made a keening noise in his throat and panted as Dean thrust against him, feeling the distinct slickness of their mixed pre-come easing the glide. “F-fuck, Dean! I want your mouth on my cock.”

Dean didn’t have to be told twice, and scooted down, licking and nipping across the hipbone he’d neglected earlier. God, he could write an epic about those fucking hipbones, but noting the tremble that had taken Castiel over, Dean decided that he’d have to wait to worship them properly. He mouthed his way over until he reached the base of Castiel’s cock and dragged his lips along the length, savoring the shudder and moan that the simple touch elicited. A fresh bead of pre-come oozed out and there was only a small pause, where the two men looked at each other, before Dean swiped it up as he tongued at the slit. Humming his appreciation, Dean licked his lips lewdly and winked as he lowered his mouth to suck at the head.

Castiel was pretty sure he’d never seen anyone look at him with such raw lust before and bit his lip to contain the embarrassingly loud moan that would’ve escaped. Dean pulled off with a pop and caught Castiel’s eye. “No Cas, I want to hear you. Don’t hold back on me. Please.” The ‘please’ was neither begging nor demanding, but a quiet request that left Castiel reeling with a sense of intimacy, that Dean genuinely received pleasure in those noises.  Although still clouded with lust, Dean’s eyes were wide and softer than he would’ve expected and Castiel only got so far as nodding before Dean ran with it and swallowed his aching erection down in one go.

Castiel’s back arched hard, involuntarily. “Oh god! Fuck!” He immediately felt guilty when firm hands slid around to hold his hips in place. “S-sorry. Shit.” Dean hummed what Castiel assumed would’ve been ‘uh uh’ to his apology and the look in Dean’s eyes confirmed that he’d expected it. But then his cheeks hollowed out and he began to bob and rock, his leaking cock rubbing obscenely against Castiel’s leg. They were both aware that this wasn’t going to last long, and Castiel couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed, because goddamn did Dean Winchester get him worked up.

After a minute of ruthless suction punctuated with cleverly timed swirls of his tongue, Castiel’s moans had started moving into short high-pitched (for him) keens, as his thighs began to shake. Sensing the beginning of the end, Dean slowed his rhythm and let off some of the suction, bringing two fingers to trail down Castiel’s sac and behind it, feeling the man tense beneath him. With a look up, Dean hoped that his eyes would flash his plan and when blue eyes caught his own, he sucked hard and took Castiel all the way down once more, swallowing around him in his throat.

“DEAN! I-”

Castiel’s whole body had gone tight like a bow string, and Dean took his cue, pushing those two fingers firmly into the space behind Castiel’s sac. Looking up, he caught Castiel’s gaze and watched every millisecond of quite possibly the most erotic orgasm he’d ever witnessed on anyone’s face as the man came apart with a loud shout, spilling down Dean’s throat and causing him to automatically swallow. Dean had been so focused on Castiel that he hadn’t realized just how enthusiastically he’d been rubbing against the man’s leg until the display had become too much. Dean was genuinely surprised to feel his orgasm ripple through his body at that moment and came with a startled moan around Castiel’s dick, still in his mouth. The combination of the moan and the hot splash of come against his leg sent a harsh aftershock shuddering throughout Castiel’s body that left his abdominal muscles jerking and toes curling.

Carefully pulling off of Castiel, Dean only moved enough to settle between his legs and rest his head on the top of one of the man’s thighs. His eyes and nose were running, his throat burned, and his jaw ached, but Dean couldn’t find it in himself to care as he was too swept up in the rush of chemicals coursing through his body while he caught his breath.

For his part, Castiel was certain his brain had whited-out and stared blankly at the ceiling for a moment, acutely aware of every pulse point in his body. Neither man moved for a few minutes, swept up in their bliss as they came down from their highs.  Castiel came back to reality when he felt a little sigh escape Dean’s nose where it was pressed into his upper thigh. Looking down, he saw the trail where the man’s visible eye had leaked and used every bit of energy he could muster in his boneless state to reach down and brush his thumb across the moisture on Dean’s cheek before dragging his hand up to rest in his hair, fingertips twitching in an attempt at scratching.

Of course any orgasm is good, but Castiel had never experienced one of that intensity from a simple blow job. It wasn’t the most suave job he’d ever received and hadn’t even lasted that long, but his body hadn’t seemed concerned with logic at the time, especially upon discovering that Dean didn’t seem to have a gag reflex. Dean stirred, interrupting his thoughts when he pulled up to his knees to crawl up the bed and flop down on his back next to Castiel. Almost shyly, Dean turned his head and gave a soft grin, face flushed and freckles standing out. The vision of Dean in the afterglow was nothing short of beautiful; much more than Castiel had previously imagined.

“So…um…” Dean trailed off.

“Yeah,” Castiel grinned at him.

Both of them lay there for several seconds, happy to observe the other, until Dean started to become aware of the cold stickiness on his belly and looked down, frowning. Rolling to the edge of the bed he reached for a t-shirt on the floor and sat up. He then wiped carefully over Castiel’s leg, trying to avoid pulling on any leg hairs that might have drying come gluing itself in place. It was surprisingly tender and Castiel blushed as he watched Dean move on to cleaning his own self up before finally acknowledging Castiel’s gaze.

“Mwhat?”

“Did…did you come untouched?” Castiel asked quietly.

Rubbing his hands down his face, Dean nodded silently while hiding behind his hands. Castiel’s insides warmed and he sat up, scooting to mostly face Dean and pulled the man’s hands down from his face and held them, so as to rest their foreheads together. “Dean, that might be the highest sexual compliment I’ve ever been paid, so please don’t be embarrassed.” Without giving him the opportunity to argue, Castiel tilted his head and kissed Dean sweetly with an undercurrent of possession that made Dean feel utterly cherishered. He kissed back, curling his tongue gently around Cas', hoping that his mouth would be enough to return the sentiment; at this point, words seemed like an invasive concept that would only serve to shatter the moment. Castiel seemed to get it, and brought a hand up to cup Dean's jaw, humming softly as he deepened the kiss, but not lewdly so. They kissed languidly, gentle hands exploring smooth skin and soft hair, both relishing the sense of intimacy that neither man had experienced enough of in their years.

Breaking for air, the two just looked at each other for a long moment, until a familiar smug, but more so satisfied look started to cross Castiel’s features. Dean wasn’t really sure anymore if the look irritated him or aroused him and settled on a wry expression. “Really, with the smug?”

“You don’t seem to be complaining about it,” Castiel said with a smirk. “In fact,” he dropped his voice lower, “I think you like it.” 

Dean sputtered at having his own words given back to him and not being able to deny them and clenched his jaw. Then, on an impulse, he leaned in snaked a hand around to rest on the fleshiest part of a butt cheek and whispered too sweetly, “asshole,” before getting in a good pinch and sprinting out of the room at Castiel’s surprised yelp.

Treading carefully out into the living room, Castiel lifted a brow when he caught sight of Dean standing warily by the couch. “Did you really just goose me?!” Castiel’s voice betrayed his humor as he noted Dean’s cheeky grin and playful defensive posture. They circled each other, Dean putting on a good front even though they both knew that Castiel could stomp his ass six ways to Sunday if he really wanted to. Dean knew that the other man wouldn't harm him though, and couldn't help but want to see a hint of what the man was capable of.

As soon as he did it he knew it was a mistake, but Dean couldn’t resist getting in a short smack to Castiel’s ass when he got close enough. The mock-indignant scoff Dean earned only felt like victory for a brief moment before Castiel was on him in a flash. Not exactly sure how he got that way, Dean found himself being shoved stomach-down on the couch, wrists pinned to his lower back by one strong hand while another pressed between his shoulder blades and the weight of Castiel’s body as he straddled the backs of Dean’s thighs.

“Fuck, dude!” Dean wheezed in surprise, knowing he really shouldn't have been.

Castiel chuckled and leaned forward, removing the hand at Dean’s shoulders in order to get close to his ear, still gripping his wrists. “I know you haven’t forgotten my training, Dean. So what? Do you like this? Knowing that I could pin you down and fuck you?” Castiel then took that moment to rub his slightly re-awakened cock against Dean’s ass, surprising even himself with his behavior.

Dean groaned low in his throat and shivered. “Goddammit, Cas,” he rasped as he turned an interesting shade of red and pushed his hips down into the cushion. Truthfully, Dean wasn’t even consciously aware of this himself until now. However, now that the idea was firmly planted in the front of his mind, he felt ridiculous for not seeing it coming a mile away.

Sensing Dean’s struggle and worried that he'd pushed too far, Cas released his wrists and leaned back to rest warm palms on Dean’s ass cheeks and rubbed his thumbs against the skin, sighing. “You drive me crazy, Dean.” He then ran those hands up Dean’s back and draped himself over the man, sucking a harsh kiss to the top of his shoulder before dropping his head down to rest between those shoulder blades. “I say and do things I normally never would. Not so sure I should even tell you that, but it’s true.”

The honesty was at once refreshing and disconcerting (but not apologetic) and Dean wasn’t sure how to respond, because who says something like that without a trace of vulnerability in their voice? So he did all he could think to do and grabbed the hand that was dangling off the couch by his side and ran his teeth over the pad of Castiel’s thumb before placing a gentle kiss to it. Dean felt the other man’s ribs expand and contract on a long contented breath that was oddly comforting. They lay that way for a minute just feeling each other breathe before Castiel slowly shifted and got up, extending a hand to Dean.

Dean took the hand and stood, clearing his throat. “So uh, wanna take a shower?” Castiel only got as far as opening his mouth to answer when a loud knock sounded at Dean’s door. The two men whipped their heads to look at the door and then at each other. Then realization spread over Dean’s face.

“Shit! Sammy was supposed to come over today.” Dean said, facepalming.

“Uh, hang on a minute!” he shouted toward the door as Castiel took off toward the bedroom. Dean followed suit, hoping as he walked that Sam would keep his giant girly mouth shut because nobody, and especially Cas, deserved to be receiving end of one of Sam’s puppy looks.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some Cas feelings.

Castiel flopped down on the side of the bed, his shoulders in a resigned slump as he grabbed for the sheet and pulled it across his lap. He decided at that moment that he would lie down and take a nap, once Dean finished getting dressed. Dean hurriedly grabbed for clothes and pulled them on, pulling an extra pair of boxers out of his dresser for Castiel and tossing them on the bed. When Castiel made no move except to cock his head in confusion, Dean went from a bit heartbroken to angry at the world in record time at the clear implication that his friend was used to being treated as something shameful to hide away. 

“Just put them on, Cas. I swear they’re clean.”  Dean was unsure whether his attempt at an encouraging smile was enough to mask the angry possessiveness prickling beneath his skin, but damn did he try.

Castiel sat up a bit straighter, but his skeptical brow didn’t relax in the slightest. “You… _want_ me to meet your brother?”

“Well yeah. I wasn’t going to ask you to hide out in here all afternoon while I hang out with Sam. I might be an asshole, but I’m not that kind of asshole, man! I mean, unless you’d rather hide out, because I’d totally understand if you’re feeling weird about meeting my family and all.” Dean looked down at the socks in his hand, feeling suddenly bashful.

“Dean, I uh,” Castiel nervously pushed his glasses further up his nose, “I do want to meet him but I’m afraid I don’t always make good first impressions; I never really know what to say and it’s sometimes misperceived as rudeness.” Regardless, Castiel figured the least he could do was pull on the boxers. He had zero desire to put his clothes back on, certain that they probably carried the general funk of his outing the night before and his eyes wandered to the closet without permission.

“Don’t worry ‘bout Sammy, he’s…perceptive. Just dig around til you find something that fits and come out when you’re ready.” Dean gestured between the closet and dresser and seeing Castiel’s trepidation, leaned in for a quick kiss. Castiel stood up, feeling only a bit more confident. “You’ll do fine, alright? Just be Cas…I think he already likes you.” With a playful tap to Castiel’s ass to send him toward the closet, Dean gave him a wink and scooted out of the bedroom door.

 _Already likes me? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Does Dean actually talk about me?_ Standing at Dean’s closet, Castiel’s mind went into over-analyzing mode, regardless of the other man’s assurances. Not as much about Sam though, as the fact that he was going to be walking out wearing Dean’s clothes, which really is a rather personal thing to do. Don’t people usually wait a little longer until the clothes-sharing phase? Not that Castiel minded, bustill. Dean wouldn’t have offered if it wasn’t okay with him, right? It’s one thing to loan out some comfies to a friend in need for the night, but a whole other when lending clothes out to meet family. Surely the man understood the implications. The sound of a vaguely familiar voice came drifting from the living room and Castiel was snapped out of his rambling thoughts. Realizing that the longer he stayed in there, the worse the tension might be, he quickly fished around until he found a pair of jeans that seemed a bit smaller than the rest and a bright blue Henley and hastily pulled the outfit on. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath before exiting the room, trying his best to put on his work persona…calm, confident, and purposeful. This was an act that he knew how to handle.

When Sam heard Dean’s bedroom door open, he turned his head so quickly that he was mostly a blur of hair and sideburns until it all settled back into place. Castiel took this surprised motion to mean that Dean hadn’t mentioned his presence yet and fixed the man with a stink eye. Dean shrugged with a lopsided grin and Castiel rolled his eyes before turning to offer a more congenial look to the new addition to the apartment. _Oh god, it’s the Moose!_

“Broody-Face,” Sam exhaled with a goofy grin, before realizing what he’d said. “Er, sorry, I’m Sam,” he said, extending a giant paw and sheepish look.

“Hello Sam, I’ve heard a great deal about you. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Castiel,” he said with a firm handshake. 

Sam’s eyes darted between the two men, taking in the wild hair, Castiel’s borrowed clothes, and Dean’s posture that was much more relaxed than usual. While Dean only crossed his arms over his chest and smirked, Castiel couldn’t feel more like shrinking away as he watched the younger Winchester trying to figure out how to tactfully respond to what he was seeing. Sam gave Castiel a soft and almost apologetic glance before turning toward his brother. Disturbingly, the man’s jaw clenched and he turned steely eyes on Dean. Okay, that was definitely not the reaction he was expecting. This must be what Dean referred to as ‘The Bitchface’.

“Dean-“ Sam’s voice was calm, but Castiel’s ears caught the subtle disappointment and irritation evident there.

Realizing what conclusion his brother was coming to, Dean reached over and slung his arm around Castiel’s shoulders in a territorial move and cut Sam off before he could even bother to ask to speak in private. “Sam…I know this is going to sound fucked all kinds of up, but uh, this…this is Angel.”  A fond and amused smile played on Dean’s lips before he looked away from Sam, whose eyebrows had risen and knit together in a look that could only translate to ‘what the fuck?’. When those hazel eyes turned on Castiel, they’d taken on what he was certain was only a step away from the puppy-dog look that Dean had described before.

“Well in that case,” Sam chuckled breathily and his eyes twinkled a bit, “thank you, Castiel.” Before Castiel could ask why, Dean gave a warning glare at his brother and dropped his arm. Sam merely cleared his throat and looked away.

“So, who wants a beer?” Dean asked loudly, hoping that Sam would leave well enough alone. Sam and Castiel both said ‘me!’, although the latter may have said it a bit enthusiastically and blushed at Sam’s grin. The two made their way toward the living room while Dean fetched the beer and Sam was about to sit down on the couch when he happened to catch the look on Castiel’s face. Castiel knew that Sam probably wouldn’t appreciate sitting right where his brother’s junk had just been and grimaced to himself as he thought about the state of his own living room after what he saw the night before.

“Aw, seriously, guys?” Sam whined, then added, “That was _my_ seat, Dean!” 

Dean’s look of confusion turned to humor when he looked between the two men and then at the couch. Castiel’s cheeks were a lovely shade of pink as he looked at the floor before shuffling over to sit on the end, as he had the night before. “Don’t worry Sammy, the recliner’s still safe,” Dean said, adding a smirk when Sam’s bitchface made another appearance. Dean handed off the beers and claimed the seat next to Castiel and slouched comfortably to rest his feet on the coffee table. Castiel took a few long pulls on his beer, but remained quiet as he sat with a rigid posture that was almost comically in contradiction to the plushness of the couch, preparing for the third degree. Sam eyed him and pulled in a breath, ready to start and Castiel took another swig of his beer to calm his nerves. He hadn’t dated in high school and wondered how in the hell 16 year old boys ever found the nerve to talk to their dates’ fathers and make it far enough in the conversation to get approval.

“So Castiel, I hear that you’re qualified in two different ways to kick someone’s ass?”

Oh. Well that was unexpected. Exhale. “Yes, I have a black belt in Karate, but I’m not sure that fencing would be considered useful in the type of physical altercation in which one would typically find themselves.”

Dean couldn’t help but grin into his bottle, noticing the formal tone and wording that Cas’ speech had taken on in his nervousness. Adorable little shit.

Sam chuckled and leaned back into his seat. “So no V for Vendetta moves, huh?”

Posture relaxing a bit, Castiel offered a small smile. “No, not so much. The movie appears to use a variety of fighting styles and I’ve never tried using shorter blades or both hands. That might be fun to learn though,” he said as he rubbed speculatively at his chin. “And I am ambidextrous.” Castiel realized what he’d said when he felt Dean looking at him and knew that if he turned his head, the look would be embarrassingly salacious on the man’s face. Castiel, for Sam’s sake, graciously refused to look and heard a tiny exasperated sigh from beside him. Fine then. “Excuse me, Sam.” Castiel then turned his whole body to look at Dean.

“Is there something you’d like to say?” Castiel hoped he was completely mutilating any chance of an innuendo from the other man and raised an expectant eyebrow. Sam snickered softly behind him.

“No, no, I’m good,” Dean said innocently. Then he took a swig and licked a stray drop of beer from the bottom of the bottle’s neck to the opening while holding Castiel’s eyes. Castiel really hated that the motion made him swallow and set his lips in a firm line, earning a grin from Dean. Sam was fiddling with his phone when Castiel turned around, clearly trying to ignore the exchange.

“Sam, may I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Is your brother always an inappropriate pervert with company around?” Castiel ignored the almost-indignant ‘Hey!’ that came from his side.

Sam snorted and leaned forward to clap a sympathetic hand to Castiel’s knee, but looked at Dean. “I like this one, Dean.” Then he turned his focus to Castiel and grinned, broad and warm. “And yes, my brother loves inappropriate innuendo. If you can teach him some restraint, you’d win all the awards, man.”

Turning to Dean, Castiel smirked as he thought about ‘restraint’. “Perhaps I could. I can be very persuasive when I want to be.”

Dean opened his mouth, wanting to argue that Castiel was the one using innuendo now, but knew by the look on Castiel’s face that he should keep his mouth shut because that had decidedly been a sexy threat.

“That’s what I thought,” Castiel mouthed silently. Dean’s scowl only served to make Castiel chuckle lightly and turn back around. Dean had been fairly certain that Sam and Cas would get along, but he hadn’t foreseen that they would start conspiring against him so soon and pouted a bit. As if he could sense the pout without looking, Castiel leaned back in his seat and made it a point to rest his arm and knee against Dean, offering a bit of grounding contact that Dean relaxed into. He would have grabbed Dean’s hand, but wasn’t sure how much contact the man was comfortable with showing in front of his brother.

“So how did this,” Sam pointed between Castiel and Dean, “happen?”

Dean cleared his throat and in a move that surprised both of the other men, hooked his arm into Cas’ elbow. Their eyes caught for a moment and Cas nodded his approval for Dean to tell the story. “Well, we hadn’t made plans to meet, if that’s what you mean. His brother is in town and took him out last night, but Cas ended up needing a place to crash when his brother decided to leave and host an orgy in his living room. So he called me,” Dean shrugged. “Just a crazy bit of coincidence here that it’s…him.” Castiel was grateful that Dean had left out the part where he was wandering around town lost and drunk like a freshly-minted 21 year old.

“Wait, what? Are you serious? He just…rolled out to have an orgy at your house without telling you?” Sam looked personally affronted, as if the faux pas had been committed against himself.

“Well, actually, he did tell me, but I didn’t know because he’d sent it through a text and I hadn’t checked my phone. I…I didn’t know until I unlocked my door last night,” Castiel said, his face haunted.

Sam’s laugh started as a chuckle but grew into a loud guffaw when he caught his brother trying to stifle his own laughter. “S-sorry Castiel, it’s just…your face.” He wheezed more laughter when Castiel scowled between the two brothers and Sam had to take a moment to calm down. “Okay, okay, I’m cool now,” he said, wiping his eyes. “But seriously, I’m glad it happened, because I was beginning to think you’d keep up the anonymous shtick forever.”

“Alright, Sasquatch, enough sharing and caring time. I’d like to get the movie going sometime today, if that’s alright with Cas.” Sure he’d talk to Sam about the relationship at some point, but today was not that day.

“I think I’d like that, but let me call Balthazar first. I need to make sure that he makes use of the bleach and upholstery cleaner before I come home.” Castiel pulled out his phone and walked into Dean’s bedroom for a bit of privacy. Balthazar picked up on the third ring, sounding utterly hung over and fucked out.

“Balthazar. Please tell me that your guests are gone and you’re in the process of removing the evidence.” Castiel put bitter emphasis on the word ‘guests’.

“Yes, unfortunately, your home is now free of beautiful lusty people. Well, aside from myself, of course. Where are you?”

“At a friend’s house. We’re about to watch a movie, which should give you ample time to clean up and sanitize all surfaces.”

Balthazar sighed on the other end of the line. “Look Cassie, I’m sorry you thought I left you without warning.”

This, amongst other reasons, was exactly why Castiel had stayed away from his family. He knew that the apology wasn’t given because his brother actually felt bad, but rather because he didn’t want Castiel to be mad at him. Like a child being forced to give an apology for something they don’t understand. The fact that this was a grown man who was fully capable of understanding the purpose of an apology, yet seemed perfectly content to twist it to fit his needs was something that Castiel had been trying for years to overlook in the name of peace. Castiel had neither the energy nor the desire to get into a moral/philosophical debate at the moment and gritted his teeth. Customary stuff, really.

“It’s fine, Bal. Just…make sure I can’t see any evidence whatsoever that anyone has been there, okay? I’ll be home later and we’ll figure out dinner when I get there.” Castiel hung up and rubbed his forehead. He loved his brother, and he knew that Balthazar wasn’t a complete asshole. But even after years of being apart from their family, Balthazar had maintained some of the more unsavory behaviors that Castiel had witnessed in their siblings and it grated on his nerves. Family is family though, so he instead chose to look toward his brother’s more redeeming qualities and remind himself that at the end of the day, Balthazar was at least loyal to him. The rest of the family however, was more than happy to use Castiel (or anyone, for that matter) as a tool for their own purposes. It was sickening and he felt a wave of bitter sadness wash over him that his family couldn’t seem to understand what he felt was so glaringly wrong with the way they lived.

When Castiel made it back out into the living room, he flopped back down in his seat and Dean immediately quirked a brow. “Everything alright?”

“Yes, just…dealing with Balthazar tries my patience. What are we watching?”

Dean saw the subject change for what it was and looped his arm back into Castiel’s. “V for Vendetta. Got me thinking about it and I haven’t seen it in ages.”

Sam hit the lights and Castiel slumped down further into his seat, glad to take the comfort of Dean’s warmth soaking into his side. Despite his self-confidence and fairly dominant personality, Castiel’s family always managed to dredge up his insecurities and frustrations and he despised that it was the chink in his armor. After years of fighting his own personal war to simply have the freedom to be his own person in a family of controlling, manipulative bastards, Castiel was exhausted. He wanted so badly to just burrow himself into Dean and borrow some strength and comfort, but knew that he couldn’t allow himself the release. Dean had his own issues after all, and it wouldn’t be fair to burden him with Castiel’s problems on top of everything else. Furthermore, he wasn’t sure that Dean was aware that under Castiel’s carefully-constructed façade was a man that had been broken and glued back together so many times that he felt like a POS car on its last legs that refused to give out. If Dean knew this, he’d likely run for the hills like everyone else had in Castiel’s life; most people simply weren’t masochistic enough to take on a person whose soul was full of duct tape. No, Castiel would just have to be content to take what he could get and be glad that he could at least have the company of the man next to him. It was quickly becoming an almost physical feeling, trying to push down the self-loathing that he would be willing to settle for far less than he knew he deserved, but it was a familiar feeling at this point. Which of course intensified the self-loathing, that he even had to admit to himself that he felt it regularly in the first place. A lump that felt an awful lot like vomit was slowly working its way up his chest and he realized what was happening; of course he would have to experience an anxiety attack right now. He knew that if he didn’t get it under control, it would turn into a full-blown panic attack and that absolutely could not happen, not with other people around him and without his pills to ease him down. Breathe in, breathe out. Close your eyes, deep breath. Now exhale. Unclench your fists…good. Imagine Meditation from Thais…

Castiel had been so intently focused on listening to his own heartbeat and going through his mental checklist of calming exercises that he started with a noticeable jolt at the touch of Dean’s hand to the back of his own. When had Dean unwound their arms? He also wasn’t sure when his hands had come to rest above his knees, knuckles white as he pressed his palms and dug his fingers into his own thighs. Yeah, not much better than being in fists. His eyes darted up to Dean’s concerned gaze, taken aback by the intensity of it. Wordlessly, Dean wrapped his hand around Castiel’s, peeling his fingers away from his leg as he did so and intertwined them with his own. With a gentle squeeze of his hand, Dean leaned in to whisper so that only Castiel would hear. “You’re safe here, Cas.” Dean placed a chaste kiss below Castiel’s ear. “Say the word and Sam will go, no feelings hurt, if that’s what you need.”

Castiel didn’t know what exactly he needed at that moment; his first impulse was get up and walk out of the apartment, already embarrassed that Dean had noticed his freak-out. The very thing that he’d just sworn he wouldn’t put on the man. _Ridiculous overactive brain_. However, it did appear that Dean genuinely wanted to help and the damage was already done, so Castiel decided at that moment to do something that he wasn’t sure if he would regret later or not. He gave a slight nod and hoped with everything in himself that he could trust Dean to handle this with minimum damage to his pride. Before Dean could say a word though, Sam yawned loudly and pushed the footrest back down on the recliner. Dean reached for the remote and paused the movie.

“Well guys, hate to cut it short, but I think I need a nap and then I have a ton of prep to do for tomorrow.” Sam gave a tight-lipped smile and got to his feet, pulling his keys out of his pocket as he walked toward the door. Pausing at the door, he turned to look at Castiel. “It was really nice to finally meet you, Castiel. I hope to see you around here again sometime. See you later, Dean.”

“Don’t work too hard, little brother,” Dean said with gratitude in his eyes. And with that, Sam was out the door, leaving the two men on the couch to the darkness of the room.

Dean stood up and offered a hand to Castiel, pulling the man up gently from the couch. “Come on Cas, let’s go take that shower.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, I do not romanticize anxiety or panic attacks...I've suffered them myself for years and wouldn't wish them upon anyone. It's a very real problem, and I tried to keep it from being overly triggering, but I wrote it the way I tend to experience the process sometimes, so apologies if it was upsetting. Hopefully my tagging was sufficient.


	13. Chapter 13

Dean wasn’t sure what specifically had caused Castiel’s slow burn toward panic, but he’d been keeping a worried eye on the man since he’d gotten off the phone. Dean’s heart broke for a second time that day, to see Castiel going through what he knew to be an anxiety attack. Solitude was Dean’s method of dealing with the few he’d had, but the thought of letting Cas go in this state was just not acceptable. He knew he could at least do the next best thing though and get rid of Sam, who was still a relative stranger to Cas. Whether Sam knew exactly what was happening or not, he clearly knew that something was up that warranted privacy between the other two men, and Dean wanted to throw his arms around his brother for not only being awesome, but for being gracious enough to not draw more attention to Cas. Sammy’s people skills, among others, were exactly why he was in the right profession.

Dean didn’t say a word as he led Castiel into the bathroom and got the water running, doubting that his friend wanted to talk. With a gentle touch that held zero pretense, Dean stripped Castiel down. He then stripped himself and pulled the other man into the shower with him, making sure that Castiel got the first turn under the almost-hot spray. The delicious heat and pressure on his back was exactly what Castiel needed, and he let a deep breath out of his nose as the tension began to ebb from his body.

Castiel didn’t even realize he’d closed his eyes until he was surprised, pleasantly, by the sensation of shampoo-covered fingers massaging into his scalp. The care in Dean’s touch was almost too much bear; it would’ve been easier if it felt like pity, because he could’ve gotten angry and stomped out with his dignity.

“Dean,” he started to protest.

“Just tilt your head back,” Dean cut him off quietly.

Castiel obeyed and Dean rinsed every trace of shampoo from his hair, careful to make sure that none of ran into his face or ears.

“Now turn around.”

When Castiel knitted his eyebrows and got the same look back, he realized that Dean wasn’t interested in arguing and turned around to face the water. Seconds later, those same hands were back on him, but lathered up with shower gel this time, passing over his neck and shoulders. Castiel tensed when calloused palms came to rest over his shoulders and strong thumbs started to rub over tight muscle. Dean sighed behind him and moved his hands to run down the length of Castiel’s arms as he leaned in.

“Cas…please, just let me do this for you. Consider it me returning the favor, alright?”

“You don’t have to do this,” Castiel murmured, eyes focused on the suds spilling down the drain. Then Dean was turning him around, waiting patiently with a hand cupped to his jaw until Castiel had no choice but to look into those ridiculously green eyes.

“Cas, you listen here. You are _not_ an obligation.”

Dean said it with an earnestness that made Castiel want to look away. The statement was like a punch in the gut and Castiel felt his throat tighten. There was no way that Dean could possibly know the effect that his words would have; Castiel had never voiced that particular insecurity of his that was yet another piece of baggage leftover from his upbringing.

Dean must have seen the effect all over Castiel’s face, because the hand dropped away from his jaw and there was no protest when Castiel’s head immediately bowed back down. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Castiel and pulled him close, running soothing palms down Castiel’s back as the shorter man tucked his face into Dean’s neck. They stood that way for a couple of minutes, until Castiel’s breaths had synced up to Dean’s deep, calming ones. Sensing the change, Dean went back to lathering the other man down, carefully scrubbing every inch of his body except for the most intimate areas. Because Dean could be a fucking gentleman, thank you very much. Castiel had clearly never been shown this kind of appreciation and Dean wanted to kick the shit out of whoever had made this beautiful man feel so unwanted that he didn’t even know how to accept the kind of affection he so freely gave, himself. Of course Dean chose to overlook the hypocrisy in this thought. It crossed Dean’s mind that perhaps they were more alike than he’d originally realized and he felt something like hope blooming in his chest. Not that he was glad that Castiel might be just as messed up as himself, but it was slightly comforting to know that Castiel understood baggage well enough to not be totally put off by Dean’s.

Dean was dragged out of his thoughts by Castiel’s hands now running through his hair, returning the favor but scrubbing more vigorously than Dean had. When their eyes met, Castiel’s held the more familiar glint that Dean had gotten used to and his lips turned up in a small smile.

“What? Did you really think I was going to just hop out now that I’m all clean?”

“Uh,” was the best Dean could do at the moment. Because when had he gotten under the water?

Castiel sighed and rolled his eyes playfully. “It’s your turn. Gotta hurry though before the water runs cold.”

Now it was Dean’s turn to be taken care of, and although Castiel couldn’t linger the way Dean had, the attention of his touch made up for what time didn’t allow. It was a point of fascination for Dean, that Castiel’s touch (at least with him, anyway) was so vastly different from what he had expected and he couldn’t help the contented hum that sounded in his throat as those beautiful hands worked him over, head to toe. Dean had always thought that the way a person touches reveals more about who they really are than any other physical action and Cas…Cas’ hands were devastating. Even in such a mundane moment as a shower they were full of precision, each bit of pressure and where it was placed a plotted out move. It was far from mechanical, though. In fact, Dean was quickly coming to the conclusion that Cas might be one of the most overall sensual people he’d ever met and felt a stupid grin working its way across his face that he didn’t quite hide in time.

“What, Dean?” Castiel quirked a curious brow and backed up to give Dean room to rinse off.

“Nothing, just…you’re really hot, okay?” Dean could feel the hot flush rising in his cheeks at the unsophisticated wording because really? What in the hell was that? At Castiel’s unimpressed eyebrow, Dean decided to try again because he was a goddamned adult and it shouldn’t be that hard to just say something. With a deep sigh, he let the words tumble the best he could. “Okay, do-over. Cas, I think you might be the sexiest motherfucker I’ve ever had the pleasure of being touched by and I’m glad that I get the privilege of touching you, too. That better?”

Judging by the flickers of humor, surprise, affection, and lastly- lust- Dean assumed that he had indeed done better.

“Let’s get out, Dean.”

The water had turned lukewarm anyway, so Dean obliged and turned it off, handing Castiel a surprisingly fluffy towel. Apparently, Dean’s desire for comfort extended beyond furniture and food and entertainment. This was a man that liked to luxuriate in his own small ways. Castiel grinned into the towel as he dried his face off and imagined Dean walking around in fuzzy bunny slippers, of all things. He decided right then that this was an image he would nearly pay to see and made a note that if they were still doing whatever this was at Christmas time, that the slippers would happen for his own shits and giggles.

Castiel finished drying off and walked out, heading straight for the bedroom. Dean followed behind him, suddenly nervous; things had changed now, even from how they were this morning. If he’d thought that the closeness they’d built over the months on the phone was intimate, it was nothing compared to what they’d been through in the last half-day they’d spent in each other’s presence.

When they got to the bed, Castiel pulled the covers down and crawled in, looking at Dean expectantly. Castiel caught the tiniest of hesitations in Dean’s frame and sighed.

“I don’t bite, Dean. Unless you want me to, that is,” he said with an uncharacteristic waggle of eyebrows.

Dean snorted and gave a nervous grin as he slid under the covers. Still unsure of what exactly was going on, Dean decided to not be presumptuous and lay down facing Cas, a respectable 18 inches away.

Castiel raised an eyebrow and huffed before wiggling over and slipping a knee between Dean’s. “You may not be, but I’m man enough to admit that it’s nice to snuggle. Can we do that? Just lounge for a minute?”

“Yeah, Cas, we can…snuggle,” Dean forced the word out. It’s not that he didn’t want to, so much as it was just not something he was used to doing. Plus, isn’t that kind of a…couple-y thing to do? Jesus, he really needed to know what they were doing.

“Don’t get too excited there, Chief,” Castiel said flatly, even as his hand slid up Dean’s hip and came to rest at his waist.

“No! It’s not that. Just not used to it, that’s all. I mean, not outside of being with someone…” Dean trailed off and looked down in the vicinity of Castiel’s sternum. When Castiel didn’t respond for a while, Dean looked up, uncertain whether he wanted to see what the man’s face might be doing. Castiel’s thumb rubbed lightly over a rib as his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. Dean was certain that if they weren’t lying down, the man would’ve been tilting his head.

“Dean,” Castiel visibly swallowed. “Do you want a relationship?” He kept his tone as neutral as possible, leaving the ball completely in Dean’s court.

Rolling to his back, Dean stared up at the ceiling as he grabbed Castiel’s hand that was resting on his stomach. “I don’t know how to answer that. I mean, am I the only one that feels like we kind of already are, in some sort of fucked up way?” He turned his head, knowing he needed to look Cas in the eye if this conversation really was happening now.

“No, Dean, you’re not the only one,” Castiel murmured.

“Is it…are you okay with that?” Dean fumbled, feeling his heart climbing up his throat.

Castiel closed his eyes and sighed, bringing Dean’s palm to rest over his heart. Keeping his eyes closed, he asked, “Do you really want _me_ Dean? And please be honest.” He opened his eyes and waited patiently for the response, using every ounce of courage to hold his gaze.

Dean knew that it was a loaded question, but the answer to every implied question he could think of was the same. Rolling back to his side, Dean leaned in and placed an almost-chaste kiss over Castiel’s heart and felt its pace quicken under his lips before leaning back to look at Castiel. “Yeah, Cas, I do. But maybe we shouldn’t talk about it right now, after earlier and all.”

A smile that Dean had never seen before crept onto Castiel’s face that was pleased and private, meant to be shared with a lover, and Dean was taken aback by the honesty of it. He felt his insides flip as the realization sunk in that he could actually be on the receiving end of a look like that. “Thank you, Dean. For your honesty and your concern.” 

Castiel then draped a leg and arm over Dean and effectively pulled the larger man to him, to lay a soft kiss on his lips. Dean couldn’t help but feel like a ship at sea being pulled in by the tentacles of a giant squid at the sudden movement. Dammit, he forgot how strong Cas was. And yeah, he was coming to terms quickly with how much he apparently liked the manhandling. Remembering the sensation of being handled on the couch earlier, Dean moaned softly into the kiss.

The sound crashed over Castiel like a wave and he closed the remaining inches between them, pulling Dean in to line their bodies up, belly to foot. God, Dean felt good against him, all warmth and solid form with skin smoother than it had any right to be. At the other man’s surprised gasp, Castiel took the opportunity to swipe his tongue tentatively behind Dean’s upper lip before running around to explore around his teeth. A distinct hardness pushed its way against the inside of Castiel’s hipbone and he smiled into the kiss. Using the hand that rested on Dean’s waist for leverage, Castiel rolled them easily, straddling Dean’s thighs and dipping down to resume the kiss.

They could have been kissing for seconds or minutes, Castiel was unsure, but he knew that this was a mouth and a body that he intended to become well-acquainted with. As they kissed, their hips had naturally started a gentle rocking and a slight wiggle from Dean had their lengths lining up in glorious contact. Castiel broke the kiss with a pleased hiss and immediate groan from Dean as his head fell back against the pillows. Taking advantage of the invitation, Castiel leaned in to nip and lick his way up Dean’s neck, making note of the keening noise that the man made when Castiel found a particular spot beneath his ear. He then started to make his way down, mapping out every contour of Dean’s torso with his tongue and lips, hands trailing reverently along his sides.

Dean’s cock was leaking and hard, twitching next to Castiel’s face as he kissed along Dean’s abdomen and he felt his mouth water. The realization caught him by surprise because truthfully, Castiel had never really been a fan of giving blow jobs. He’d always considered them as something to do selflessly to make his partner feel good, but never got any gratification from it himself. Oral sex with women; yes, that had been something he’d actually liked and excelled at. But this was the first time he could recall looking at a dick and actually _wanting_ to taste it. He glanced up when he realized that Dean had gone still and quiet.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Cas,” Dean said quietly. He reached down and carded his fingers through Castiel’s hair.

Castiel wondered what his face must have looked like if Dean felt the need to give him some kind of out. When Dean’s thumb swiped slowly along his brow line, Castiel realized that he must have had his ‘thinking face’ on, that always made his forehead wrinkle up.

“You misunderstand,” Castiel said, shaking his head. “It’s the opposite of that. I’ve never actually wanted to, before.” To make his point, he flattened his tongue and licked all the way up, applying the kind of pressure that was as far from a tease as you could get before swirling around the head.

“Oh shit!” Dean knew that the words sounded like they’d been punched out of him,  but couldn’t bring himself to care. His hands gripped the sheet tightly.

Although Castiel was used to getting this kind of reaction (he was fully aware of his talents, after all), it had never made his dick throb before and a small embarrassing little noise happened in this throat before he could stop it. All the same, he glanced up at Dean with a hot look and dipped down to suck the head into his mouth, tonguing lightly at the slit as he pulsed his suction.

“Cas!” he hissed in pleasure, as his hand flew up to rest on Castiel’s neck, needing the touch to ground himself.

Castiel appreciated that Dean didn’t seem interested in being pushy with that hand and repaid it by sucking down as much of the man’s cock as he could. Unlike Dean, Castiel did have a gag reflex, but had long ago learned how to compensate with his hands and tongue and set to work taking Dean apart. The moans and pants coming from the man were heady and Castiel had to reach down twice to squeeze at the base of his own cock; Dean deserved his turn at getting a fabulous orgasm.

After a couple minutes of some of Castiel’s finest work, sucking and licking as he bobbed, he could tell by the tremble of Dean’s thighs that he was getting close and pulled off. He pushed a spit-slick finger over Dean’s balls and looked up. “Dean…have you ever…” Castiel trailed off as his finger edged slowly behind them to make his point.

The gentle, intimate tone in Castiel’s voice in contrast to the enthusiastic movements he’d just been making pulled Dean out of his haze for a moment and he felt affection surge through his blood. Dean had been correct in his assumption that Castiel’s tongue would be clever, but now he was being offered those hands and the thought was nearly maddening. “Yeah Cas,” Dean swallowed thickly. “But it’s been a _while_ , so…”

Castiel was already nodding his understanding and brought his hand back up to cover it in more saliva as Dean spread his legs a bit more. Dipping back down, Castiel paused just short of Dean’s cock and looked up. “Relax, Dean. I’m going to make you feel good, okay?”

Dean nodded quickly, unable to form a proper response. He wanted to correct Cas and tell him that he’d been fantasizing about those hands since the moment he saw them and wasn’t scared at all, but Cas’ words and then his lips sucking one of Dean’s balls into his mouth was distracting. Seconds later, a single slick digit was circling his hole before pushing in to the first knuckle. The intrusion burned, but Dean was distracted again by Cas’ tongue licking along his dick as if it were a delicacy to be savored and it occurred to Dean that perhaps it was, to Cas. The thought made him dizzy, but he was shocked out of it by the simultaneous sensations of tight wet heat lowering down again and the finger below pushing the rest of the way in. At Dean’s gasp, Cas hummed around his dick and added a sinful tongue movement that Dean couldn’t even decipher.

Castiel noticed the fist clenching and unclenching in the sheets next to his head and knew that Dean wasn’t going to last much longer. Sucking harder, Castiel began to thrust his finger slowly and Dean predictably started to push back on it, making the most ungodly sounds that Castiel had ever had the pleasure of eliciting. The sounds turned to curses and then Castiel brushed on Dean’s prostate.

 “Oh my fuck! Castiel!”

The sound of his real name being shouted in that sex-rough voice made his dick pulse harshly and Castiel moaned before he pulled his mouth off, continuing to stroke with the one hand and seeking Dean’s prostate with the other.

“Look at me, Dean.” Once Dean’s eyes opened and focused on his own, Castiel continued. “I need you to come for me. Now!”  Castiel commanded this with a purposeful stroke against Dean’s prostate and swiped his thumb over the steadily leaking head of his cock.

The barely-concealed plea in Castiel’s voice was enough to alert Dean to the fact that Cas was trying to hold off his own orgasm, and Dean lost it. He came with a long, low moan, his back arched and whole body shuddering in pleasure. Cas stroked him through it but didn’t waste any time, and before Dean was even done coming down, he felt Cas shift his weight to straddle Dean’s thighs. Opening his eyes, Dean took in how utterly wrecked Cas looked; his hair was a lost cause, the lines of his body tight with the tension of impending climax, his eyes wild. All because he enjoyed pleasuring Dean. It was almost too much, but then Dean made the mistake of looking down. Cas hadn’t even wiped his hand off from where Dean had spilled over it and was stroking himself at a brutal pace with Dean’s come to slick the way as it mixed with Cas’ own pre-come. Okay, now it was too much.

“Fuck, Cas! You like that, huh? Rubbing my come onto your dick like it’s being fucking marked?”

Castiel’s hand flew up and down faster and his thighs shook where they were pressed against Dean’s, a loud groan sounding in his throat.

“You wanna be mine, Cas?” Dean’s voice came out huskier than intended, but Cas only shivered at it. He slid his hands up to rest on Cas’ hips and his thumbs stroked over those hipbones that Dean already felt a little territorial of now. No one else needed to know of the glory hiding under Cas’ clothes each day.

“Y-yes, Dean. Nnnng…fuck!”

Dean sat up, careful not to dislodge Castiel from his lap and reached behind the man to squeeze his ass, a fingertip slipping into the top of the cleft. Leaning in, he nipped at Cas’ collarbone before murmuring into the skin. “Then make me yours, sweetheart.”

Dean leaned back just enough to catch Cas’ eye and watched as the man fell apart, could feel him practically vibrate under his hands. Castiel came hard with a high pitched moan and painted Dean’s chest and stomach with his seed, hot where it landed on his skin. Cas lurched forward and twitched for several seconds as the last bits of his orgasm rippled through him while he caught his breath. He rested his forehead on Dean’s shoulder, arms hanging limply at his sides. With a dry chuckle, Dean rubbed up and down the other man’s back and turned his head to pepper little kisses to the side of Cas’ head.

A slightly ticklish touch made his stomach muscles jump and Dean leaned back to see what was going on. There was Castiel, intently running his finger through the come like he was fucking finger painting and Dean’s dick made a valiant but pointless twitch. A slight upturn of the corners of his lips signaled that Castiel had noticed it.

“Did…did you mean all of that?” Castiel asked quietly.

Dean swallowed and let a little sigh out through his nose. “Yes,” he croaked. He cleared his throat, but said nothing more.

Castiel nodded and furrowed his brows as he trailed his fingers through a particularly thick glob on Dean’s lower abdomen and down to his still-sensitive cock. The cool stickiness of Cas’ come rubbing along his junk should have repelled Dean, but a serious and almost fierce glint in Castiel’s eye was holding his annoyance at bay.

“Good,” Castiel’s voice rumbled. “I don’t want anyone else to touch you, Dean.”

It was all so _primal_ , and fuck if it didn’t send a flush to Dean’s cheeks. No one had ever shown such an inclination to want to hold onto him and it was equal parts irritating and flattering. His hands moved back to squeeze Cas’ hips and a low growl came out before he could stop it. At Cas’ amused smirk, Dean lost hold of his senses for a second. Grabbing Cas’ wrist with one hand, Dean bit down hard enough to bruise without breaking skin, earning a startled yelp. “Mine,” he said, and then placed a wet kiss over the mark before bringing his lips to Cas’. The kiss was sweet and soft, but not lingering for long. They sat there looking at each other for a full minute, Cas’ arms draped lazily over Dean’s shoulders until they both started to squirm in discomfort.

“Let’s clean up, and then I want to hear the story of those tattoos,” Dean offered with a light swat to Cas’ ass.

That small private smile was back, and Dean felt irrationally jealous that anyone else may have ever seen it before because **clearly** none of the asshats in Cas’ past had treated him well enough to deserve it. Having already made his little show of territory though, Dean swallowed it all down and rose to get a towel, wondering when Castiel had dug himself so deeply under his skin.  Because seriously, since when did Dean fucking Winchester start growing lady parts and having all these emotional moments and letting anyone boss him around? “Stupid sexy librarian,” he muttered to himself as he walked toward the bathroom.

“Did you say something?” Castiel tilted his head.

“Nah. It’s nothing, Cas. Be right back.”

Castiel nodded and his bottom lip stuck out adorably as he rubbed his fingers thoughtfully over the perfect imprint of Dean’s teeth on his wrist.

Dean sighed internally and wanted to rub his hands over his face. Stupid Sexy Librarian, indeed.

 


	14. Chapter 14

When Dean returned from the bathroom, Cas was sprawled in his bed, biting his lower lip in thought and scratching lazily at his stomach. His glasses were skewed and his hair was eight different kinds of wild and he really had no right to look so innocent while lying around naked.

Dean crawled back up on the bed and gently removed the crooked glasses, grinning when Cas squinted in confusion at him. Or maybe his sight really was that bad.

“I just like to see all of you,” Dean offered with a shrug.

“Dean, I’m naked. I don’t think you can see much more than that,” Cas retorted with an unimpressed eyebrow.

“I know. Just…you talk with your eyes, and I like to see them, that’s all,” Dean grinned shyly.

That old Peter Gabriel song popped into Dean’s head and he blushed as he caught himself having embarrassing thoughts involving himself pulling a Say Anything moment, boombox and all. He came to the conclusion that he must be losing it if cheesy crap like that was making its way into his brain and frowned at himself. Cool fingertips to his temple brought his attention back to Cas, who was reflecting his frown.

“Where did you go, Dean?” Cas asked quietly.

“1989,” Dean muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it, man.  So what about these tattoos?” Dean’s grin returned as he reached over to trace the delicate pattern over one of Castiel’s hipbones. The grin broadened when Castiel shivered slightly and goosebumps appeared at the ticklish touch.

“As you know, my family is very religious and unsurprisingly, very strict. We were all homeschooled until high school, as my mother was afraid that ‘heathen children of godless parents’ would try to sway us toward the evils of free thought.” Cas rolled his eyes and his voice oozed sarcasm.

“So anyway, they figured that after years of being properly indoctrinated, that we were ready to be set loose on the high school like little missionaries. The plan kind of backfired though, when my curiosity led me to some very interesting people and conversations. Of course I kept all of this to myself, you know. So by the time my graduation came up, I had spent four years coming to the conclusion that organized religion was a tool to oppress on a large scale and the worst of it being self-imposed and full of hypocrites. It was like a weight had been lifted when it hit me that I could simply walk away and believe whatever I wanted in whatever way I wanted. It felt like a victory, coming to the realization that I had triumphed over years of near-brainwashing, so I had a crown of laurel tattooed as a graduation present to myself.”

A wistful little self-satisfied smile played at his lips as he finished the story, and Dean liked that look on his face.

“So what about the feathers on your shoulder?”

Cas’ smile faltered a bit, but his mood didn’t seem to be dampened. He let out a little sigh before he continued. “When I went to college the next fall, I switched my major a couple weeks in, from political science to anthropology and kept it from my family because if nothing else, they had still agreed to pay for my schooling. They had had certain expectations of me, to join in the family business. Somehow my mother found out and when I didn’t deny it, she sent my brother Uriel to inform me that she would no longer fund my education, unless I transferred to the private Christian university that she teaches at. Of course it was one last manipulation out of many to try and keep me under her thumb, but I knew better by then. It was the push I needed I suppose, and I finally cut ties with my family at the end of the semester, after telling Mother exactly what I thought of her attempts to control my life. Balthazar had already been through something similar with the family years before and offered to let me move in with him until I got a job and could get my own place. He joked that we were forming a ‘Fallen Angels Club’, but it kind of stuck with me. It felt good to be on my own once I moved out, so I got angel feathers to symbolize my uh, fall from grace, if you will. My father still helps me out from afar sometimes, like paying an ER bill I racked up a couple years ago, but we don’t actually talk. I like to think that he’s secretly glad that I got away from all of them, but who knows.” Castiel ended his story with a little shrug.

Dean knew that Castiel had given the condensed version, but he was certain he could fill some of the blanks on his own. At some point his eyes wandered to Cas’ chest, but before he could ask about the piercing, the man chuckled.

“I got the piercing just because I wanted it, no real reason. I also used to have my eyebrow and tongue pierced, but it was difficult finding work that paid enough to live on with the eyebrow, so I took it out. And the tongue…well, I chipped a molar on it and decided that it needed to go after I got the dentist’s bill for the repair.”

Dean studied Castiel’s face for a moment, trying to imagine what he’d look like with the eyebrow piercing and came to the conclusion that he might have a secret piercing fetish. He swallowed when he imagined the tongue piercing and felt his face redden, quickly putting the thoughts of Cas’ tongue out of his head. When he met the other man’s gaze, Cas smirked as if he already knew what Dean had been thinking. He wouldn’t be incorrect.

“Shut up,” Dean grinned.

Cas lifted an eyebrow and smirked. “Not my fault that you’re a pervert.”

Dean sat up and crossed his arms over his chest in mock-defensiveness. “Takes one to know one.” Yeah, he knew it was childish.

Cas snorted, but didn’t deny the accusation. He remained unnervingly silent on the subject as he stared Dean down and could practically see Dean trying not to look away first. Castiel could feel a slow smile spreading across his face as Dean began to squirm, and then a laugh broke free without permission when Dean’s eyes flicked down briefly to Castiel’s dick.

“I win,” Castiel purred. “It’s okay though. You’ll get it eventually,” he said with a subtle shift of his hips designed to draw Dean’s eyes back down. It worked. When Dean looked back to Castiel’s face, he was met with a shit-eating grin and a wink.

Dean shivered and felt his face heat at the various implications of what Cas had said and sat up. Sure, the statement could have been taken as ‘we’ll get to sex eventually’, but Dean knew better. Castiel was a man that chose his words and tone carefully, and the placement of ‘eventually’ in that sentence had been purposeful.

“Did you just imply that I’m pining for the D?” Dean asked accusingly, though it was laced with unbidden humor.

Castiel then sat up and turned to face Dean’s profile.  He chuckled lightly and rolled his eyes before leaning in to nibble at Dean’s earlobe. “It’s okay, Dean. I want your dick, too,” he murmured into Dean’s ear. Castiel moved down to press a gentle kiss to Dean’s neck and circled his arms around Dean’s chest in what he hoped would show that he hadn’t meant to pressure Dean.

Dean snorted in amusement and relaxed a bit into Castiel’s embrace as the man’s forehead dropped onto Dean’s shoulder. They sat that way for a few minutes, both men lost to their own thoughts and enjoying each other’s warmth. Dean was having a hard time wrapping his head around the whole thing, but for all the strangeness of their situation, it felt…right, regardless of the fact that Cas was nowhere near his normal type. Typically, Dean would have kicked a dude’s ass for trying to boss him around like that in his own house, but with Cas it was different. It didn’t feel like the man was trying to imply that Dean was weak or incapable, nor did it feel like Cas was trying to control him in any way. In fact, it was the opposite; he felt appreciated and safe, like he could just be Dean. It was equally frightening and exciting that Cas seemed to understand him so well, as so few had bothered before and even fewer liked what they saw. Cas didn’t see him as some kind of thing to be fixed or the impersonal flaky flirt persona that Dean had perfected over the years; it was unnerving, but not unwelcome.

Cas sighed and rubbed his forehead against Dean’s shoulder in a cat-like manner before sitting up and dropping his arms. “We need to get dressed. I told Balthazar that I’d be back at supper time. Do you mind to take me home?”

“No, that’s fine. And you can, you know, wear the clothes you had on earlier,” Dean muttered, looking away.

Cas chose not to tease Dean at the moment and merely leaned over to kiss his temple. “Of course,” he said with a smirk.

***

 

Cas groaned and flopped his head back on the head rest of his seat when he and Dean pulled up in front of his apartment. He was really hoping to get away with not having to let Dean meet Balthazar, but luck was not on his side. The man was already outside, flirting with Cas’ next door neighbor, undoubtedly trying to work his charms on the woman. She looked unsure whether to be flattered or put-off and Castiel couldn’t help but chuckle at her reaction.

“Dean, I’m going to warn you, he’s an arrogant asshole, okay? But he means well.” Castiel felt like Dean needed a better warning, but knew that Dean would just have to see for himself.

Balthazar wrapped up his conversation with the neighbor and strode over gracefully to the passenger side before Castiel could even get to the handle. Instead of waiting for Castiel to get out, Balthazar leaned right in to the opened window, exposing even more of his torso than the obscene v-neck would normally allow.

“So you’re the knight in shining armor that rescued my baby brother? I’ve got to say, you are quite unexpected,” Balthazar leered, as his eyes roved over as much of Dean as he could see.

Dean would’ve been offended at the flirty tone if he hadn’t caught the protective gleam in Balthazar’s eye. And seriously? What was with the British accent? Dean straightened up in his seat and cleared his throat, wishing that Balthazar’s nipples weren’t on display while having this meeting, because awkward.

“Dean Winchester,” he said with a frown as he reached over Castiel to extend his hand. Balthazar grinned to himself for a moment before taking Dean’s hand.

“Balthazar. But I’m sure you already knew that. You, however, are a mystery. So what’s a…oh, how do they put it…good ole’ boy, doing with my Cassie?” The curiosity in his tone was almost enough to soften the near-insult, but not quite.

Dean felt his nostrils flare and gritted his teeth, but knew that he needed to play nice, regardless of his opinion that Balthazar didn’t deserve to play ‘protective older brother’ after what he’d done. “How about I let Cas tell you about that later, in his own words?” His tone sounded a bit harsher than he intended, but Balthazar only regarded him for a moment before he smirked.

“Cas, hmmm? That’s adorable; you’ve already got a nickname and everything.” Balthazar pinched at Castiel’s cheek, earning a glare from both of the men in the car that made him chuckle. “I’ll leave you two alone then, to say your goodbyes. I should warn you though, that your neighbor is rather displeased with me and by extension, you; it may not be wise to let her see the boat rocking,” he said with a twirl of his finger and an upward glance to indicate the car.

“Balthazar!” Castiel barked, mortified.

“Oh please, like I don’t know the look of ‘well-fucked’ when I see it. You do remember what I was doing last night, correct?” Balthazar’s grin was nothing short of lecherous and morphed into a smirk at seeing Dean’s frown.

Castiel groaned and covered his face with his hands as he felt the flush rising in his cheeks. “Oh my god, just go inside!”

“Well, pleasure to meet you, Dean. Have a good evening, darling.”

Castiel’s hands were still covering his face when Balthazar went back inside and Dean couldn’t help but find it endearing. Apparently, no one is immune to big brother-related embarrassment, even the unflappable Cas.

“He’s gone, Cas. You can come out now,” Dean said with a grin in his voice.

Castiel lowered his hands and sighed. “I’m sorry about that. Balthazar is…unique.”

Dean chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, unique is one word for him. It’s okay, though, man. But uh, what’s with the British?”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “My brother is an asshat. He spent a couple of years in England after high school and adopted the accent when he discovered that it would get him what he wanted more often than not,” Castiel said with a disgusted curl to his upper lip.

“Hmmm,” Dean nodded to himself. “Yeah, that is some upper-level asshattery there, not gonna lie. He seems okay, though. I thought for a minute there he was going to threaten me and I can’t promise that I would’ve stayed on good behavior for it,” Dean shrugged.

Castiel nodded thoughtfully to himself. “Well, technically he _was_ about to threaten you, but something changed his mind.” His brow furrowed for a moment, but then he took a breath and looked over. “Anyway, thank you for everything, Dean.”

The lift of Castiel’s eyebrow and the little smile left warmth pooling in Dean’s stomach. “Nothing to thank me for, Cas. I’m glad you have no sense of direction when you’re drunk.”

Castiel huffed as he unbuckled his seat belt and scooted right up into Dean’s space to claim his mouth in a kiss that wasn’t altogether appropriate for saying goodbye. “I think I should feel insulted, but I’ll let it slide this time, Winchester,” he said with a low voice.

“Yeah? And what if you didn’t?” Dean teased.

Castiel hummed thoughtfully as he raked his fingers down Dean’s chest and over a nipple, grinning a bit at the hitched breath. “I could get very creative, Dean,” he said darkly, as he pinched lightly at the same nipple. Dean gasped at the almost-painful touch and all of the things insinuated in it with that damned rumble of Cas’ voice.

“Fuck, you’ve gotta go, Cas,” Dean said with a playful shove at the other man’s shoulder. “And you call me a pervert,” he smirked.

Castiel chuckled as he took one more kiss before leaving. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night night, Angel,” Dean grinned.

***

Monday was a blur. Apparently, Garth had made a good call with the weekend special because the phone was already ringing when Dean unlocked the door to the shop, an omen of the day to come. Dean was satisfied though, glad yet again that he’d hired the dorky little dude, even if he had overstepped his boundaries. By the end of the day, Dean had made his decision and called a staff meeting before letting everyone go for the night; Saturdays were going to officially host maintenance specials from now on. There may have been a bit of quiet grumbling, but no one outright said anything, too tired to start anything and ready to go home. Dean could relate and was ready to get out, as well.

Finally home and showered, Dean’s thoughts turned to Cas as he noted how different the apartment felt, coming in. It didn’t feel empty like he’d expected, but rather like something had been paused. Looking around, he could see the evidence that Cas had been there the day before; books moved, the pasta pot still sitting on the stove. Quite frankly, it felt like his home was a breathing thing, waiting on Cas to come back and fill it back up with his presence. Dean grinned at the thought of the half-naked man cooking in his kitchen, maybe even coming home to the smell of a pie baking. The fantasy was inviting, but Dean knew he couldn’t let himself go there and shook his head at how clingy he felt. Even so, he picked up his phone because regardless of his limited experience in boyfriendhood, he knew that people in relationships do things like talk to each other. He was relieved to see that he had an unread text, so he could at least have the excuse of responding back.

**> >Just got home from the airport, dropping Bal off. I feel like I can breathe in my home again. Hope you had a good day.      7:06pm**

_-Hey Cas. Just got home myself, looong day. Question: do you know how to make pie?    8:52pm_

**> >Does quiche count?    8:53pm**

_-Blasphemy! Quiche is good, but not the same, dude.   8:54pm_

**> >Couldn’t you technically call it an egg pie?    8:54pm**

_-That…makes me uncomfortable.    8:55pm_

**> >I’m not sure if you’re being serious.    8:58pm**

Dean couldn’t help but laugh, imagining Castiel frowning at his phone as he tried to figure out how to respond for three minutes.

_-We’ll move on then. How did the rest of your visit go?    8:58pm_

The phone rang seconds after he sent the message. Dean didn’t even get to answer before Castiel launched directly into the conversation.

“Have you ever wanted to simultaneously kill and hug your brother?” Cas sighed heavily.

Dean could almost imagine the resigned slump of his shoulders. “Yeah, actually, I have. What happened?”

“My stupid self didn’t have a password on my laptop and he emailed my story to a friend of his that works at one of the major publishing companies. It’s not even complete yet, but it’s sitting on someone’s desk and I’m going to be contacted about it one way or another by the end of the week. I want to puke, Dean. I’m not ready for anyone like that to see it, and I’m really not ready for a critique. They’re going to rip it apart. Or worse, by some odd twist, like it. Then I’m going to have deadlines and meetings and…” Castiel’s voice was climbing in octaves that Dean had never heard him use before and cut him off.

“Whoa, hang on there. Let’s not freak out just yet, okay? So what if they don’t like it? Even J.K. Rowling got rejected- multiple times- before anyone took her. And if they do like it, isn’t that a good thing?”

“I seriously doubt they will, Dean. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, and I’ve never shown it to anyone before. Of course Balthazar saw it, but I didn’t even know about that until after I received a confirmation email that my document had been received at the publisher.”

Dean understood Cas’ frustration, but still. “Okay, but look. For one, you don’t know this person, so if they don’t like it, it’s not like you have to see them around. And two, if authors always knew what they were doing, there’d be no such thing as editors. I get the invasion of privacy thing, I do, but I’m guessing that your brother wouldn’t have risked his reputation with a connection if he didn’t think that you had a chance. Also, just curious, what exactly does Balthazar do for a living that he has connections like that?”

Castiel had been silent through Dean’s slightly scattered attempt at being supportive, but huffed a laugh at the end. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’m honestly not sure that I want to know, either. He’s never offered to tell me, so I can only assume with all of his travelling that it’s something that wouldn’t bode well for me if I knew.”

“Holy shit, Cas! What if he’s like mafia? Or- or a transporter or something? Okay, I’m going to shut up now because what if your phone is tapped?” Dean then gulped audibly. “Oh shit, what if my phone is tapped?”

A surprised bark of laughter greeted Dean’s paranoid rant on the other end of the phone. “Dean, I assure you that even if our phones are tapped, whoever it is is probably laughing at us right now, so calm down. Besides, who’d want to listen in on a neurotic bookstore manager and an overworked garage owner?”

The reassurance didn’t make Dean feel any less uneasy, but he appreciated the effort. “Well, fine. But if I end up in cement at a construction site, I’m going to haunt the hell out of you and Sam until you find me,” he said through a laugh.

“Of course, Dean, I would expect nothing less,” Cas said warmly. “I’d haunt you too, and Balthazar for good measure. I think I’d like to avail myself as an otherworldly cockblock. You know, let him bring someone home and then right when he starts to make his move, pop into the room and actually say ‘BOO!’.”

The image of Cas, all unassuming and deadpanning his greeting with his hands in his pockets made a giggle bubble up in Dean’s throat that he’d never admit to. “Jesus, Cas! I don’t know if that would make you the best or worst vengeful spirit ever. But kudos on the deviousness, dude.”

Castiel chuckled on the other end of the line and their laughter subsided into a comfortable silence for a moment before Dean could hear the familiar sound of Cas getting his tea together in the background.

“Hey Cas?”

“Hmm?”

“You know it’s going to be okay, right? I mean, whatever happens with the book thing, you know we can figure it out together,” Dean said softly.

Castiel sighed, but didn’t say anything for a while. “Thank you, Dean,” he finally offered, although it sounded reluctant.

“I can hear you brooding, you know. Just…go drink your tea and do whatever it is you do at night that winds you down, alright?”

Dean could practically hear the eyeroll through the phone, accompanied by the actual audible mock-annoyed sigh. “Fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Alright. Night night, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean.”

The fondness in Castiel’s voice was undeniable, and Dean felt a cheesy grin threatening to take over his face before he caught himself. The paranoia from earlier in the conversation swept back over him for a minute, as he pondered the possibility of hidden cameras and bugs in his apartment. And if he felt utterly foolish an hour later, after turning his apartment upside down to check for them and finding nothing, at least he didn’t have witnesses.

“Time for a beer or six, Winchester,” he mumbled to himself, as he looked at the mess he’d made.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song I was referring to was "In Your Eyes". And yes, I have a weakness for dorky!Dean, if you couldn't tell. Thanks for hanging in there, yall! I know it's taken me a while between updates, but I swear this story is nowhere near forgotten.


	15. Chapter 15

“Well I’ll be damned,” Gabriel greeted, as Castiel walked into the store.

Castiel furrowed a confused brow, but waited until he got closer to Gabriel to respond. The man was leaning next to the register and unabashedly demolishing a bag of Skittles.

“That doesn’t surprise me. So what are we going to hell for today?” Castiel asked with a teasing eyebrow, leaning on a support pillar a few feet away.

Gabriel’s eyes widened before he hooted in amusement. “I knew it! Why Castiel, I do believe someone took my advice and got laid.”

Castiel choked on his own spit in surprise and turned away to hide the redness in his face. Then he remembered that the damned pillar was mirrored. Gabriel laughed even harder, when those blue eyes reflected a scowl back at him through the mirror as Castiel caught his breath.

“Oh come on! Don’t even try to act all innocent,” Gabriel teased.

Taking a moment to make sure he wasn’t going to go into another coughing fit, Castiel cleared his throat and straightened his waistcoat, where it had rucked itself up as he’d been sputtering. “I’ve never implied that I’m innocent, Gabriel,” Castiel croaked, his throat a bit sore.

“This is true,” Gabriel said with a nod. “I guess it’s those damned eyes of yours, make you look like a lost kitten or something. But still, put that with being damn-near monastic, and what else am I supposed to think?”

Castiel narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “How could you possibly tell from a glance?” He really did want to know, because if he had a neon sign flashing over his head, he’d like to figure out how to turn it off.

“You never dress up on Tuesdays and are usually 1000% done before you even make it through the door. Yet here you are in your fancy outfit and twinkles in your eyes. I would’ve written it off you know, if hadn’t snarked at me. Tuesday does not a snarky Castiel make.” Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest with a smug look.

Castiel inwardly cursed himself for being so obvious; not that he was ashamed of having sex, but because it was nobody’s business. “Fine. You’ll just have to deal with my good mood, I suppose.”

“Geez, you make it sound like that’s a bad thing. I’m glad for you though, it was about time, bro.” Gabriel clapped him on the shoulder proudly, as if he’d just made the honor roll. “So anyway, we don’t have any projects going right now, but that old fart from the D.A.’s office came in earlier and made a huge mess.”

Castiel’s lips curled in disgust. “Adler?”

“Yep! Thought the asshole would never leave. Turns the reference section upside down and then complains about the selection before he left.” Gabriel’s face then turned wistful as he huffed a laugh. “Wish you could’ve seen Jo’s face though, when the guy suggested I ‘get the little lady on it’ to pick up behind him. If he wouldn’t have left when he did, I’m pretty sure she would’ve kicked him in the nads, and I’m not sure I would’ve stopped her. Dickface needs to learn a lesson.”

Castiel unconsciously darted his eyes to look for Jo, hoping that Gabriel hadn’t made her actually clean up after the guy. Not that it wasn’t part of her job to clean up after customers, but still.

Gabriel flicked Castiel’s bicep with a frown. “No, I didn’t make her clean it up, if that’s what you’re thinking. I sent her on break to let her calm down and have a minute. Probably ranting on the phone at that lawyer cousin of hers, or whatever he is.”

 “It’s Sam,” Castiel blurted.

“Yeah,” Gabriel drew out the word as if Castiel were a particularly slow child. Apparently Jo had brought up Sam more than once to Gabriel. Dean seemed to be practically non-existent though, and Castiel wondered if the man really was working so much that Jo never saw him these days.

Castiel huffed. “No, I mean, that was the moose from the other day.”

Gabriel’s face fell a bit in surprise. “You mean that hot piece of ass is a lawyer, too? How could that not be your type? That’s everyone’s type!” he nearly shouted.

“Not everyone’s,” Castiel murmured.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes for a moment, and Castiel realized he’d given something away. Shit. Fortunately, the break room door opened, interrupting the conversation before Gabriel could question him further.

“What about Winchesters?” Jo’s voice piped in, as she walked up to the counter.

Castiel inwardly groaned. Or at least, he’d thought it was inward.

Gabriel’s and Jo’s eyes fell on him instantly, and he grabbed a pile of re-shop, hoping that it would politely let the other two know that he was exiting this conversation. He strode off calmly, pleased when no one followed him, despite the low murmur of his coworkers no doubt gossiping about him by the register. It’s not that he was ashamed of Dean by any means. But working with Jo while dating Dean was an intermingling of work and private life that made him nervous. Isn’t it better when your work, hobbies, and private life don’t intersect? Castiel rationalized that keeping all of the different parts of his life separate meant that one surely wouldn’t affect another if something went sour. Certainly less stressful, anyway, and easier to manage.

“Holy shit, dude!” Jo cried, suddenly next to him.

Castiel hadn’t heard her approach and paused, startled, his arm stretched over his head to put a book back on the top shelf. In one swift movement, Jo pulled the arm down and yanked the cuff of his shirt up as far as it would go while buttoned.

“What?” he asked nervously, at her wide eyes.

Then his eyes traveled down to see what she was looking at. Goddammit. This was so not how he’d thought his day was going to go. He’d worn the long sleeves to cover up the bite-shaped bruise, after all. He felt his face turning red, and pulled his arm away as politely as he could. Of course she didn’t take the hint though, and immediately pulled his collar aside to take in the mark on his collarbone, as if she were some sort of hickey-sniffing bloodhound. Castiel cursed his choice of wardrobe yet again that day, wondering why he had opted not to wear a tie. At least his collar would’ve been secured.

“Hot damn, Castiel! I was wondering how long that would take!” She was still in his personal space, ogling the hickey and smirking, clearly enjoying the way it flustered him.

Batting her hands away, he returned his attention back to the books in the crook of his arm. “Drop it, Joanna,” he said in his low commanding voice. Oh yeah, he was bringing out the proper first name.

Jo snorted and crossed her arms over her chest, completely unaffected by the tone, giving him her best ‘you _will_ spill it’ face. When he showed no indication that he was going to fill her in, she squinted and cocked her hip out in a way that made him imagine that Jo would make a fierce mother someday.

“So who was it?”

No answer but a sigh from Castiel.

Jo pouted for a second before a sly look came across her eyes with a smirk. “You dog! Did quiet little Castiel have a blurry one-nighter this weekend?” Her face fell a moment later and she laid a gentle hand to his forearm. “Oh! Shit, I’m sorry I couldn’t pick you up the other night. No wonder you’re mad at me. God, I feel like a dick,” she said as her gaze dropped to the floor.

A third voice joined them that had Castiel spinning on his heel, nearly dropping the stack of books in his arm. Apparently Jo hadn’t noticed the approach either, and flinched as a hand came up to mess up her hair.

“Yeah, Jo, what an ass! How dare you be responsible and hold down your job,” Dean teased. Jo gave him a dirty look as she straightened her hair back out.

Castiel rubbed his eyes under his glasses because really? There was no way he could pretend that there was nothing between he and Dean, even if only to maintain privacy. “How long have you been standing there?” he asked Dean tiredly.

Dean chuckled and reached out to straighten Castiel’s glasses, where they’d been left lopsided from the eye-rubbing. Jo quirked a curious brow, but said nothing, waiting on Dean’s response. “Long enough to watch you attempt to ignore Jo’s nagging about your sexcapades this weekend,” Dean leered.

Cheeks flushing, Castiel let out a long-suffering groan as he leaned forward to hide his face in Dean’s chest. “You’re an asshole,” he muttered, words muffled by Dean’s shirt. He couldn’t fight his grin though, as he felt warm laughter rumble through Dean’s chest and large palms glide soothingly over his back. Schooling his features, Castiel leaned back and tried to glare at Dean, but failed miserably when he caught sight of those damned eye crinkles.

“How did you guys meet?!” Jo sputtered in shock. Her eyes darted between Castiel’s wrist and collarbone, and then to Dean, before settling on Castiel again.

“I called Dean to come get me when you couldn’t leave.” At Jo’s confusion, he continued. “Dean’s the one I’ve been texting with, but I didn’t know it was him until he showed up.”

“Seriously?!” She glanced between the two before bursting into a peal of giggles. “See, I told you, dude!” Jo grinned as she patted Castiel’s cheek fondly. “I knew you two would hit it off.”

Dean threw an arm over Castiel’s shoulder. “Okay, Squirt, enough fondling my boyfriend for one day.” All three froze at Dean’s words, his arm twitching around Castiel’s shoulder as if to remove it. Castiel felt his heart pound against his ribs as he waited for the retraction. Dean caught his eye then and his face softened for a moment before turning into resolve and tightening his grip. “Er, you gotta problem with that, Jo?”

The eyeroll that Jo bestowed in Dean’s direction was nothing short of epic. “Dean, I love you dude, but you’re about as subtle as a semi when you’re checking people out. I’ve known for a while about the dude thing.” Stepping back, she looked the pair over from head to toe and grinned. “Ugh, you two are disgustingly attractive together. It’s almost painful to look at.”

A light dusting of pink appeared along Dean’s cheeks, along with a shy little smile. “Oh. Well, uh okay. Thanks, Jo. Just…don’t tell your mom yet, okay? You and Sam are the only ones that know.”

“Fine, but you’d better come by soon, or she’ll beat my ass and yours for holding out on her.” Jo then sprinted off when the store phone rang, waving a hand at Dean as she answered the call.

Dropping his arm, Dean turned to face Castiel, who had been quiet throughout most of the exchange. “I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have done that here at your work. You’re not mad, are you? I was just on my lunch and thought I’d come by.”

The little smile of Castiel’s that had become Dean’s favorite appeared. “No Dean, it’s okay. I was just trying to avoid telling Jo for a while; no offense to your family, but she’s kind of nosy.”

“Shit! I didn’t even think of that. You know,” Dean chuckled a bit, “her and her mother are the ones I needed rescuing from that night that I called you for the first time.”

Castiel nodded in empathy. “I could see the need for a rescue. I met Ellen once and she was rather intrusive, until she realized that I wasn’t interested in Jo.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, she’s a bit protective. And I’m sorry, but since you work with Jo, I think we’re going to have to go down to the Roadhouse sooner, rather than later. Especially since Ellen's already met you.”

The longer he spoke, the more Dean’s words turned into a bit of muttering, and he started looking everywhere but at the man in front of him. It took Castiel a moment to grasp why Dean was being awkward so suddenly, and when he did, a mischievous grin appeared on his face.

“Are you asking me out on a date, Winchester?” he asked with a sarcastic batting of eyelashes.

Arms crossed over his chest, Dean frowned and looked off to the side before meeting Castiel’s amused gaze again. “Well not if you’re going to be an asshat about it,” he mumbled. Yet again, Dean found himself startled by the giggle that came out of the deep-voiced man in front of him.

Castiel laid a gentle hand on Dean’s forearm and tugged it away from his chest in an effort to erase the defensive body language. “Surely you know that’s my default by now,” Castiel smirked and then sighed. “But yes, Dean, I’ll go out with you, even if Ellen is kind of scary.”

A couple of customers wandered in and Dean glanced around to make sure that Jo was handling it before wrapping up their conversation. “Well, I don’t want to keep you from your work, but thanks Cas. Pick you up at eight?”

“Sounds good.” Castiel took a quick peek to make sure no one was looking and leaned in to give Dean a peck on the cheek, blushing a bit as he pulled back. The sweet little gesture was unexpected and Dean’s heart definitely didn’t skip at the shy look on Castiel’s face. “Now get going so you have time to eat before you get back to work.”

“Yes, Sir,” Dean said with an eyeroll as he mock-saluted and turned to leave. Just as he made it to the door, Castiel called out for him.

“Oh, and Dean? I’ll be wearing blue, so you can make sure my corsage matches,” Castiel taunted.

Ah, there’s the little shit Dean’s come to know and…know. Dean glared in Castiel’s direction and merely flipped him off in response as he walked out without looking back. He heard nothing but fond laughter behind him as he exited the store and shook his head. Honestly, it didn’t bother him at all. He knew that Cas wasn’t being serious and it was kind of a relief that the man seemed content to keep their interactions more or less the same as they had been, despite the shift in status. Cas didn’t seem to expect Dean to change into some magical super-boyfriend with roses and chocolates and shit like the women that Dean had dated before, and it was comforting.

***

Castiel read the email, then read it four more times, half-dressed and socks forgotten, where he’d slung them on his shoulder before sitting down.

... _normally wouldn’t send this as a personal email, but in light of your brother’s connection being a friend of mine, I thought I would explain this myself and give you a heads up. While Adams doesn’t print your particular genre, the editor that looked over your work was impressed with your style and sent it over to me. I must say, Novak, you might have quite the future ahead of you, if you’d be interested in allowing  Crossroads Publishing to print your work. The boss will be contacting you tomorrow, so I suggest you have a decision made by then; he’ll be ready to finagle contract details ASAP. If you decide to say yes, I suggest you bring someone with you to double-check the fine print._

_Meg Masters_

_P.S.- This email never happened._

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck. That email was sent at lunch time, so he’d already lost about seven hours of time to ponder what he was going to do. And since when do publishers send work to each other? That’s right, they don’t. Jesus, what did Balthazar do, for Castiel’s novel to even be looked at by not one, but two publishers in a matter of days? A heavy lump settled in his stomach, as he wondered if maybe Dean had been right in his paranoia, that Balthazar was possibly a dangerous person. Shit. It’s always the people associated with those types that end up dead.

‘ _Calm down, you paranoid asshat,’_ Castiel chided himself. Rationally, the letter did say that it was a friend-of-a-friend kind of thing, right? Still overwhelmed, he paced to the kitchen and pulled out the vodka that had been resting in his freezer for God knows how long and poured half a tumbler full, adding a splash of orange juice to tone it down. Castiel got as far as two good gulps when there was a knock at the door. Glancing at the stove clock, it read 7:58. Oh yeah! Dean.

When the door swung open, Dean outright laughed at the sight that greeted him. Cas was definitely flustered about something, wearing only his boxers and a royal blue button down with the bottom two buttons in the wrong holes and a pair of socks lying over his shoulder. His hair was an utterly wild mess. Then Dean spied what looked too thin to be plain orange juice in his hand.  Judging by Cas’ slight confusion at Dean’s reaction, the man must’ve forgotten that he wasn’t completely dressed when he answered the door. God, but it was endearing.

“Hey Cas. You uh…I’m guessing you need a minute?” Dean grinned and pulled the socks off of Cas’ shoulder.

Cas looked down at himself and frowned, choosing not to acknowledge the blush rising on his cheeks.

“Sorry, I got a little distracted. Come on in,” Cas muttered to the floor as Dean stepped into the apartment.

Dean perched himself on the edge of the couch as he watched Cas buzz around, hunting down what Dean assumed to be a missing shoe and simultaneously trying to pull on a pair of pants as he walked. At some point he’d handed his drink off to Dean, without seeming to realize he’d done it. Then he stalked over to the fridge and pulled, of all things, deodorant, from the door. As if that were the most normal thing in the world, Cas lifted his shirt and swiped some on before he caught Dean’s stare.

“Mwhat?” he asked, mid-swipe. “It’s refreshing,” he added a little defensively.

As much as Dean knew about Cas, he realized that he still had far to go in learning the physical person and mannerisms of Castiel Novak and chuckled at his strange boyfriend. His boyfriend, who was blinking owlishly at him, pants unbuttoned, and wearing one sock.

“Oh my god, you are a total mess!” Dean laughed warmly. Cas tried to scowl, but it faltered when Dean held the tumbler out for him like an offering. “Take a swig, sweetheart. Looks like you could use it,” he said more gently.

Castiel was willing to chalk up the endearment coming out beforehand, to being lost in the moment, but right now, he couldn’t tell how to interpret it. Castiel privately felt a flash of irritation, that Dean might use ‘sweetheart’ or ‘angel’ on anyone else and took the proffered tumbler a little more forcefully than he meant to and knocked back an unwisely large gulp. He sputtered and wheezed for a second as the burn and vapor got to him.

“Whoa there! Take it easy,” Dean said soothingly. Suddenly, he was running a careful hand down his spine to ease Castiel’s breathing. The warmth of his palm and gentle pressure found Castiel settling down quickly, and leaning into the comforting touch. They stayed silent for a minute, and Castiel suspected that Dean was waiting for him to relax before saying anything else.

“I got an email today,” Castiel paused, trying to figure out how to proceed. “It was from an editor, warning me that her boss was going to contact me. I- I think they want to publish me,” he murmured.

The smile that spread over Dean’s face was like a sunrise, starting slowly at his mouth and spreading to his eyes until it seemed to wash over his entire body in a way that made him absolutely stunning. “Cas! That’s great!” He then swept Castiel into his arms and it was almost terrifying, the pride and warmth and joy that radiated from his embrace; no one had ever touched Castiel that way. The beat too long that it took him to respond had Dean pulling back, concern starting to cloud his eyes. And god, did that leave Castiel feeling like an asshole, for being the one to take away all that sunlight. He selfishly wanted it back and pulled Dean back in, to properly return the embrace and buried his face in Dean’s neck, inhaling what had become such a comforting scent.

“I don’t know what to do, Dean,” Castiel mumbled, lips brushing Dean’s neck. “I don’t know the first thing about contracts, and they’ll put me on deadlines, and what about my job? I can’t meet a deadline if I’m at work all the time, but I have to work.”

This time when Dean pulled back, the clouds were gone, but the light in his eyes was softer. “Well, to my knowledge, they usually give you a good chunk of money when you sign. If you’re smart with it, you could reduce your hours and still have plenty to live on while you write. And don’t worry about the contract; you already have a lawyer to help you look that over.”  At Castiel’s confused frown, Dean rolled his eyes. “Sam, Cas. You have Sam. He wouldn’t let you get screwed over, and I know he would do this for you.” Then Dean took a good long look at Cas, searching for something in his eyes. “Unless you don’t want to write professionally. And that’s cool too, okay? Just don’t let the details hang you up from getting something you want.”

Cas shrugged and looked down at his feet.  “I don’t know. But I only have a short time to figure it out, apparently,” he sighed. “So, there was something about us going on a date?” Castiel asked, abruptly changing the subject.

Dean smirked, but didn’t comment on the change. “Yeah, but I don’t think Ellen will let you in the door with your pants unbuttoned.”

Cas’ hands immediately went to his fly, but Dean batted them away with a sneaky look. “Here, allow me.” Castiel looked unimpressed, but humored the man all the same.

Dean took his time, going much slower than necessary to get the button looped and fondling Cas’ crotch as he got a grip on the zipper. It had the expected effect, and Cas scowled.

“You’re supposed to get enjoyment out of taking my pants _off_ Dean,” he pouted.

The zipper was pulled up, and Dean let his fingers linger for a moment, chuckling at Cas’ reaction. “I just enjoy _you_ , naked or not. And besides,” he shrugged as he ran a bold palm down Cas’ front, relishing the feeling of flesh hardening under his hand, “I gotta give you something to remember who you’re with when everyone starts giving you eyes at the Roadhouse.”

Shit, Dean was a fucking tease, and much more territorial than Castiel had expected, if the man was being serious (which he doubted). All the same, it had Cas’ blood warming and in an act of pure retaliation, he leaned forward and attached his mouth to the juncture of Dean’s neck and shoulder, sucking a harsh kiss to the flesh there. Dean gasped and Castiel smiled into Dean’s neck, nipping at the sensitive mark before pressing a gentle kiss to it.

“There. Consider the favor returned,” Castiel purred.

Green eyes turned wide and dark and Dean’s hand came up to rub at the spot on his neck. “Did you just mark me?” Dean asked, voice thicker than moments before.

With an innocent shrug, Castiel chuckled. “I made sure it was somewhere that could be covered up. But tonight, it **will** be seen.” He pointed at the collar of Dean’s shirt, knowing that the Henley wouldn’t be able to conceal the already-forming bruise.

A shiver ran up Dean’s spine at the non-negotiable tone and his mind began to wander. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he wasn’t surprised to see the smug look on Castiel’s face when he looked back up. It should’ve bothered him, but the look in Castiel’s eyes was hot and aimed directly at him and for the life of him, Dean couldn’t feel anything but relief that the other man seemed so satisfied to have him.

“We’ve gotta get going,” Dean said hoarsely, as he fumbled his keys from his pocket.

“Of course,” Castiel said with a twinkle in his eye. “We'll need sustenance.” Then he let loose a grin and winked.

Dean groaned inwardly at the fact that something as simple as a wink could make him want to lose his resolve and scrubbed a hand over his face. Castiel merely laughed, a light chiming sound that trickled over Dean and was too adorable for anyone’s good. Even if it was at his own expense, Dean felt pleased to have made the other man laugh, considering that typically the most he ever got out of Cas was a chuckle. Cas actually looked happy for the moment, and Dean felt his chest puff in pride at the knowledge that he’d done that.

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All my gratitude and love to snarkymonkey for offering your help and support while I was flailing and continually rubbing my face ♡♡♡

“Winchester. Didn’t think I’d actually see you in here so soon,” Ellen greeted Dean approvingly. Then she turned her focus on Castiel and narrowed her eyes. “You’re Jo’s boss, aren’t you? Castiel, is it?”

“Yes ma’am,” Castiel nodded with a tiny grin, trying not to squirm on his barstool. Unsurprisingly, the Roadhouse was fairly empty, being a weeknight.

Ellen hummed thoughtfully as she looked between them. “So I’m guessing my offspring was behind this?” she asked tiredly. Dean gaped in surprise at the way Ellen steamrolled right past the possibility that he and Cas were just two friends coming in for a beer.

“Oh good Lord, don’t look at me like that, boy. You don’t think I have eyes?” It was plain that Ellen barely refrained from rolling said eyes. “And close your mouth, Dean. You’ll attract flies that way,” she sassed, looking a bit smug.

Castiel chuckled quietly behind his hand and Dean frowned at the betrayal. Okay, maybe betrayal was a bit strong of a word, but still. At least Castiel had the grace to tamp it down. “So you don’t care?” Dean asked her timidly.

Ellen glanced around and leaned over the bar conspiratorially, as if to say something private, so Dean mirrored her and leaned across to meet her halfway. She allowed for a dramatic pause and then with a quickness that surprised Castiel, reached out and smacked Dean across the side of his head.

“Ow! What the hell, Ellen?!” Dean squawked.

“After all these years, you think I’d toss you aside just for bringing in a man? I’m just glad you’re out of the house and away from work, you damned fool.”

“Sorry, Ellen,” Dean mumbled as he rubbed gingerly at the side of his head.

“It’s okay, Dean,” she said with much more warmth than moments before. “Now, what can I get you boys?”

“We’re gonna eat tonight, so I just want my usual and a beer,” Dean replied.

Ellen nodded and started to reach for a menu for Castiel before he piped in. “Oh, that’s okay, Mrs. Harvelle. I’ll just have whatever Dean’s having, please.”

She paused her movement with an amused little twitch of her lips. “Sure thing.” She turned to Dean with a fond smirk. “I don’t know how you managed to find one with manners, but it looks like your taste in men is a hell of a lot better than women.” Then she glanced at Dean’s neck and chuckled to herself. “A gentleman on the streets, huh?” And with a wink toward Castiel, she turned and walked off to put in their order.

Dean let out a relieved breath and turned to Cas, snaking his hand briefly into the man’s elbow. “Come on, let’s go get a table.” He was mildly surprised that Cas allowed him to usher them to the booth with a hand to the small of Cas’ back, though he probably shouldn’t have been. After all, the man hadn’t protested when Dean opened the car door for him when they arrived, or when he held the door open for him as they entered the bar. It was a bit confusing, how different their dynamic was in public, versus privately.

Wait. Surely not.

“Hey Cas?”

Castiel hummed his acknowledgement and wondered briefly if he was about to get his head slapped when Dean leaned across the table. Realizing he hadn’t done anything to warrant the action, he leaned across warily and met Dean’s eyes, giving the man his full focus. That gaze pierced straight through Dean, and whatever elegant phrasing he’d had in mind shriveled up and died, along with his ego.

“You’re just letting me be the man right now, aren’t you?” Dean blurted. He winced at the wording of that entire sentence, but it was too late to retract it.

Castiel tilted his head, but never broke eye contact as he considered his answer for a full minute. Dean eventually glanced down and fiddled with a beer coaster, though he could feel the other man’s eyes on him like a physical touch.

“Look at me, Dean,” Castiel said in a low voice.

Dean’s eyes snapped up, and he flushed in embarrassment at how quickly he complied, but didn’t look away again, even as a waitress brought their beer over, thanking her without looking. Satisfied that he had Dean’s attention, Castiel finally spoke.

“First of all, your statement implies that ‘man’ is dominant over ‘woman’- which is untrue by the way- and as such, that I must view you as less masculine. So let me put something to rest here, Dean. I am fully aware that you are all man, and appreciate that about you, among many other things. If I wanted a woman, I would be with one. As for the ‘allowing’ part of your question, I think we would both prefer for that to be answered in a more private setting.” Castiel quirked his brow in that particular way that Dean had discovered was indicative of things involving sex.

Castiel’s voice had gone serious and low, but not unkind. Dean knew that Cas didn’t want to discuss it further at the moment, but Dean couldn’t just let it go like that; he needed some sort of confirmation of his theory to hold him over.

Dean ducked his head a bit and sent a heated look Cas’ way. “Yes Sir, I understand,” he said as softly as the noise of the bar would permit.

Dean watched as the blood promptly drained from Castiel’s face and his eyes darkened noticeably, despite the dim lighting of the bar. In an impressive show of self-control, Cas didn’t move an inch, even as goosebumps rose on his exposed forearms. Theory confirmed, then.

Oh shit.

After an excruciating moment of silence, Castiel finally leaned back into the seat, relaxing into a slouch. “So you do,” he smirked.

Dean felt like the breath had been punched out of him in a confused mixture of shock, apprehension, and arousal. His blood couldn’t seem to decide which way to rush, which was a disconcerting sensation to say the least. Sensing his distress, Castiel sat back up and laid a gentle hand on Dean’s forearm, rubbing his thumb along the muscle and turning warm eyes on him.

“Like I said, Dean,” his voice rumbled soothingly, “it’s a discussion for later.”

Dean nodded to himself and took a swig of his beer, grateful to see the waitress heading over with their order. Nerves on edge, he grinned too widely and spoke too loudly as he thanked her for the food. The waitress looked at him strangely, but offered a polite smile regardless, before walking back off. Castiel noticed that Dean showed no inclination toward calling her sweetheart, darlin’, or any other name and smiled to himself in his own personal victory.

The tension calmed down for a while as they ate and discussed the pros and cons of the book situation, but it was still an ever-present tickle that was near maddening. Mercifully, about two thirds of the way through their plates, Castiel sighed and nudged Dean’s calf under the table with his foot.

“Mind if we go?” Cas asked, all big soft eyes and head tilt.

“Gods, yes,” Dean said with a whoosh of breath, earning a chuckle for his enthusiasm.

***

The ride back to Castiel’s apartment had been filled with nervous chatter, mostly on Dean’s end, as he tried to distract himself from the inevitable conversation. Castiel listened patiently, seeming to understand that Dean’s coping mechanism was being talky. The moment they crossed the threshold though, Dean’s words seemed to dry up. Castiel paid it no mind though, and calmly went over to the stove to turn on an eye and filled a kettle under the tap. There was something soothing about watching Castiel go through the motions that Dean had heard most nights over the phone and he felt himself relax a bit at the familiar noises. Once the kettle was returned to the eye, Castiel walked over to the living area and proceeded to start unbuttoning his shirt.

“What…” Dean trailed off, his voice rasping an octave too high. Not that he didn’t like a naked Cas, but surely they weren’t just going to jump right into this. Wasn’t there supposed to be a discussion or something?

Castiel snapped his head over to look at Dean, as if he’d forgotten he was standing there. It took him a moment to realize the context of why Dean was sounding so off.

“Sorry, is this okay? I don’t typically wear clothes when I’m at home, unless I’m cooking. Well, I mean, I don’t go around nude or anything.” Castiel snapped his mouth shut with an audible click of teeth and pinched the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes. Without opening them, he sighed and spoke again. “I’m making you supremely uncomfortable right now, aren’t I?”

At that point, Dean was willing to admit that perhaps he’d been overreacting, because this was still Cas. Nerdy, sometimes awkward, refrigerated-deodorant-wearing Cas. Who apparently was worried that he was scaring Dean off, and that thought alone made Dean’s stomach do a little flip.

“Hey, I’m okay, Cas,” Dean said softly as he walked over to the other man. Cas opened his eyes and scanned Dean’s face to confirm the truth of his words. “Really,” Dean continued, “it’s your house, dude, so do what you do, alright?”

Still looking slightly unconvinced, Cas released the button on his left cuff slowly, as if waiting for Dean to stop him. Dean huffed and stepped into the other man’s space to start working the buttons on his shirt. Cas stood stock still, watching Dean’s face curiously as he methodically undid the buttons and then squatted down to untie and remove Cas’ shoes. One sock was peeled off, and then as Dean started for the other, Cas’ voice came floating from above so quietly, Dean almost didn’t catch it.

“You really do like to please me, don’t you?” Cas asked, voice thick with awe.

Dean shrugged from his spot on the floor and took off the other sock without looking up. “Well yeah, it feels good to make someone else happy. Don’t think I’ve done a lot of that in my life, so it’s nice, I guess. Probably sounds kinda selfish." He then stood up and reached matter-of-factly for the button on Cas’ jeans, but slender fingers slid over his hands, stilling his movements.

“Do you trust me, Dean? That I have your best interest at heart?”

That was a sticky question. While Dean did trust him to a larger extent than he would normally grant someone he’s known for so short a time, he didn’t know that he really could ever trust anyone fully, not even Sammy. But Cas hadn’t asked if Dean trusted him fully, had he?

“Yeah, Cas, I do. As much as I can, anyway. Don’t take it personally though, it’s just me,” he answered truthfully.

The kettle started to whistle, so Cas stepped away and gestured to the couch apologetically. “I’ll be over there in a minute. We’re not done yet,” he said mildly. Moments later, Dean heard the soft beep of the timer being set and the fridge opening, as he sat down. Then Cas was joining him at the couch, extending both tea mug and a beer, to Dean.  

Cas proceeded to strip off his pants, sighing at the new freedom. Considering that the tea wouldn’t be getting sipped at the computer with ample cooling time, it seemed wise to at least keep the shirt on. He pulled the two halves over to cover his torso and settled on the couch next to Dean, who automatically handed the mug over and smirked because yet again, Cas had handed him something without realizing it. Dean mused that if Cas were a woman, he’d probably be that one that sneaks her purse into her partner’s hands when they’re looking at something while they shop. Naturally, this would make Dean one of those poor men walking around Target, purse hanging forgotten on their arm.

“You do that sometimes, don’t you?” Cas’ voice broke through Dean’s thoughts, rich with amusement.

“Do what?”

“Go off in your world for a while,” Cas replied easily, tapping a finger to Dean’s temple. “What goes on in there that’s so much more interesting?”

 _You. I was thinking about you and having stupid girly thoughts about us shopping in Target like domesticated people._ “Nothing that interesting, I promise,” Dean said instead.

“I disagree with your conclusion,” Cas challenged with a grin.

Dean really didn’t know how to respond to that, but Cas didn’t seem concerned about getting a reply. Instead he turned to burrow his feet underneath Dean’s thigh and wiggled his toes, laughing when Dean yelped and tensed at the sensation of toes wiggling against his balls. The timer chose that moment to go off, so Cas pulled his feet back, still chuckling as he made his way to the kitchen. Christ, it shouldn’t be possible for a grown man with stubble and rumbly-thunder-voice to be so damned adorable. And furthermore, how in the ever-loving fuck could he possibly be the same man that might enjoy the thing they weren’t discussing?

Once Cas had come back to his seat and settled his tea (apparently he kept his honey in the living room? He certainly hadn’t brought it with him from the kitchen, anyway), Dean decided it was time to get this discussion over with. Sensing the change in Dean’s mood, Cas sat his mug on the floor and turned in his seat to fully face Dean.

“I’m not really sure how to ask this,” Dean tried. Castiel pulled Dean’s hand into his own, but remained quiet as he waited for Dean to parse his words. The touch was reassuring and seemed to calm his thoughts into something a little more organized. “You uh…you’re not just bossy, are you? I mean, you get off on it, right? Sexually?”

With a sigh, Castiel ran his free hand through his hair. “Honestly? I’ve never had occasion to act on it, but I think I’d like to. And please correct me if I’m wrong, but you also seem to be interested in obeying me sometimes.”

It was a rather large pill for Dean to swallow, having to admit to himself, much less someone else, that he might like being…submissive. Even as the word popped into his head, he wanted to stuff it back into whatever murky depth it had surfaced from. There was Cas though, looking at him with those patient blue eyes and not a hint of judgment or desire to pressure him. Dean’s tongue felt thick in his mouth, as if his body was working of its own volition to keep his secrets inside. But god, did he want it, he thought greedily. Cas pressed on before he could say anything.

“I understand that it takes a level of trust that I may not have earned yet, to do something like that, so please feel free to say no. I’d like to think that we’ve been honest with each other, and I expect that to extend to this as well,” Cas said with such sincerity that the decision kind of made itself. That, and the fact that realistically, hadn’t they already been dancing around this since the beginning? It’s just an acknowledgement of what they both knew on some level, not some earth-shaking brand new idea. Okay, maybe a little earth-shaking, like a tremor. Still, it’s not like Cas was asking him to change.

Dean cleared his throat and looked at their joined hands. “What would you like me to call you?” he whispered, surprised that he could even get that much out.

Cas stiffened next to him and his eyes flashed through emotions too quickly to fully process, like they had that day they ran into each other at the bookstore. Finally though, he settled on what appeared to be muted joy and relief. “I rather enjoy it when you call me Angel,” he said shyly. And it made sense; leave it to Cas to want something more personal than ‘sir’.  And Cas most certainly knew that Dean was aware of the authority and power and love that were ascribed to angels, mythically speaking.

Now that it had been acknowledged, Dean’s heart pounded with a post-confrontation adrenaline rush. “Okay,” was all he could manage, though. Because seriously, who discusses this shit before they’ve ever even had proper sex? Dean and Cas do, apparently. Cas had entered his life like a slow-approaching storm, and that first night they spoke their fantasies into the phone should have been Dean’s warning; the thunder-clap in the distance. Hell, he should’ve noticed the static-buzz of the air, that first night they spoke at all. How could he ever have been so ridiculous as to think that anything would ever be normal between the two of them?

“We’re strange, aren’t we?” Castiel blurted, after a minute of ponderous silence between them.

The relief that Dean felt at hearing that he wasn’t the only wondering what the hell they were doing was immense, and a crooked grin formed on his face. “Yeah, probably. Maybe. I don’t know,” he shrugged. “But fuzzy handcuffs are a dime a dozen for a reason, right?”

Castiel huffed a laugh and took a sip of his nearly-forgotten tea. “I haven’t been in a porn store in at least three years, so I don’t even know what the trend is, anymore.”

“Cas, I don’t think there are trends when it comes to sex. Porn, yes, but it’s all cyclical.  I seriously doubt anyone’s discovered some new way of doing it in the last 8,000 years,” Dean chuckled. The naivety of Cas’ confession had relaxed Dean a bit, as he drew the conclusion that Cas probably wasn’t going to go all sex-dungeon and head to toe leather any time soon. They’d probably both be fumbling their way through this thing, realistically, even after the research that Dean intended on doing ASAP.

With a serious nod, Castiel conceded, “Point taken.” He absently pulled the mug to his lips, but didn’t drink as he stared off into the distance for a minute. “I think I’m going to do it,” he finally said, lowering his mug. “At least, I’m going to consider it, depending on the terms they put forth.”

Apparently, the sex discussion was over. Dean really didn’t mind, anyway; the subject had exhausted itself, and he hadn’t expected anything to really happen tonight to begin with. Especially once he’d arrived and seen how stressed Cas was over the book thing, limited time frame and all. Dean watched as Castiel made a face at his mug and abandoned it to the floor, tea gone tepid by now. The man then drew his knees up and shoved his feet back under Dean’s thigh, minus the wiggling this time.

Dean laid a hand on Cas’ shin and stroked his thumb along the chilled skin. “I’ll call Sam in the morning about all this. And if this guy is serious about drawing up a contract, he might send you a PDF to look over, until you get papers in front of you. If he does, give me a call, and we’ll get the file sent over to Sam to have a look at. What do you think?”

“You’re sure Sam won’t mind? We don’t really know each other, and I’m certain he’s got more important things to do than look over some stranger’s boring book contract.”

Dean grinned reassuringly. “Don’t worry about Sam. Look at it this way; you benefit by having a legal expert in your corner. And if you become successful? Then that’s just one more thing that Sam can add to his resume, so he benefits, too. If you want to do something though, he’d probably be happy if you offered him a copy from the first run.”

Inexplicably, to Dean, a deep blush rushed to Castiel’s cheeks. “Oh. I uh…I don’t think that’s something I should offer.” Shit. This hadn’t even occurred to him. “I don’t think Sam would be interested in my book.”

“Whaddya mean, not interested? Kid’s a huge nerd. Seriously, I think he’d live in a library, if anyone would let him.” Dean chuckled fondly to himself. “Between you and me? When me and Sammy were kids, Beauty and the Beast was his favorite movie. You know that stupid face Mowgli gets when he first sees the girl by the water in Jungle Book? That was Sam, every time he watched Belle get the library.” Dean outright laughed, now. “God, he hates it, but I still call him Belle, sometimes, just to rile him up. But how could I not, with all that girly hair and everything? Dude uses like fifty hair products a day!” Dean was talking with his hands now, and Castiel couldn’t help but join in the laughter, when Dean made a dramatic hair-flipping gesture.

Pleased that Dean seemed to have distracted himself, Castiel felt his cheeks calm down and hoped that the subject could be considered dropped.

“Soooo…what’s your book about, anyway?” Dean asked, face curious and obviously unaware of the depth of Castiel’s discomfort with the subject. Dammit.

Castiel sighed and rubbed a hand over his neck, immediately setting Dean’s internal alarms off that something was up. “I kind of…well. Okay, please don’t take this personally at all against yourself, but I don’t really like to talk about it.”

As expected, Dean frowned so deeply that it turned into a pout. “Oh Dean, please don’t look at me that way,” he said as he reached out to lay a hand on Dean’s neck. It didn’t ease the pout.

“So what is it? Some creative thing? Not discussing it til it’s completed or something?” Dean asked warily.

That made it so much worse, because Dean was clearly trusting him, that it wasn’t personal. And it really wasn’t about Dean so much, as Castiel’s own bit of embarrassment. “Not exactly. It’s just that the writing of this book has been a personal indulgence that I never expected to see the light of day, more like a hobby, so I’m not really all that thrilled about people seeing it. The only reason I’m considering the deal is because I’d be able to use a pen name.”

Dean gave him a long look, lips set in a firm line as he tried to figure out what was really being said. Castiel could tell by the flickering change in his eyes, the moment Dean had come to a conclusion. “Cas, have you been writing some kind of Nicholas Sparks, chick-flicky stuff?” Then Dean’s face turned to barely-concealed horror. “Oh god, it’s not like Twilight, is it? Because honestly, that’s the only thing I can think of that would make a man not want to fess up to his stuff.” At Castiel’s ‘are you kidding me’ face, Dean looked relieved. “Oh! Or is it some highly offensive political thing, like that Anonymous book?”

God, it was getting worse. Any of those would be less embarrassing, and there was no way that Dean would ever drop this completely, now that his curiosity was sparked. That same curiosity is what had led to their acquaintance, after all.

“No, nothing like that,” he sighed. “Please, Dean, can we just drop it?” Castiel hated to do it, but knew he had to and pulled out his secret weapon. The kitten face. He knew it was fighting dirty, but hoped that it would be enough for now, until he could figure this out.

“Ugh, fine. Just stop with the face, man,” Dean said with the barest hint of bitterness to his resignation.

The kitten face intensified.

“Oh my god, Cas, stop your shit! It physically hurts to see that face, man,” Dean whined, as he leaned his head back to look at the ceiling, instead.

Castiel counted it as a win, when he saw the slight fond curl of Dean’s lips as the man pointedly avoided looking at him. “Thank you, Dean,” he said sincerely.

Finally, Dean turned his head to look Cas in the eye again, the grin curling even more as it reached his eyes to bring out the crinkles. “Oh, it’s not over, Sweetheart. I’ll leave you alone about it for now, but you know it’s going to drive me crazy, right?”

Damn, Dean was good, pulling out the Sweetheart and the crinkles and all. Then the man chuckled, and Castiel managed to arrange his face into something resembling unimpressed. “Yes, Dean, I’ve been planning the best way to send you into a slow spiral toward insanity since before we met,” he said dryly.

Dean merely smirked in response, a silent acknowledgement that he knew what Castiel was doing, but was willing to let it go for now. Horrible, freckled, smirking, perfect, sexy bastard.

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

“I can’t believe you’re dating a writer, of all things,” Sam chuckled over the phone.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sam sighed, and Dean could easily imagine his brother running his hand through his ridiculous moose mane. “I guess I thought you’d be bored by someone like that. And Castiel just seems really reserved, you know? Not exactly your normal type.”

Dean had to choke back a snort. “Trust me, Sammy. Cas is definitely not boring.” He couldn’t help the leer that bled through his voice.

“Ugh! I really don’t want to know, Dean. Especially considering that I’m going to be seeing the guy again.”

“So you’re gonna do it then?”

Sam hesitated before he responded. “Yes, but I need you to be aware of how awkward this could get if shit hits the fan with you two, because he’d still be my client, and I won’t get involved if it happens.”

Dean nodded before he realized that Sam couldn’t see it through the phone. “Yeah, I know. I promise to respect your lawyer-client privilege or whatever it is.  And thank you, Sammy. I mean it.”

“I know. Now text me his number so I can give him a call, alright?”

“Alright. I gotta open up the shop, anyway. Talk to you later, little brother,” Dean grinned fondly.

“Later, Dean.”

Dean ended the call and immediately texted Cas’ number to Sam. The smell of cheap coffee, leather, and garage clung to his office, but it was comforting in its familiarity, even if not necessarily what one would call pleasant. He leaned back in his desk chair, relishing the last few minutes of quiet before starting his day and realized that Cas would probably appreciate a warning about the phone call.

_\--Heads up, Sam’s got your number.     7:56am_

**> >I know. He’s cheerful.      7:57am**

_\--Bahaha! Not a morning person, Cas? ;D      7:57am_

**> >No, I’m not.  -__-  Go open your shop, Dean.    7:58am**

_\--Yeah, yeah. Keep me updated?    7:58am_

**> >Of course.     7:59am**

Dean chuckled to himself, imagining the perturbed look on Cas’ face at being woken up to Sam’s alert voice, ready to get to business. He knew that Cas didn’t have to be at work until lunchtime that day and was not one to get up early if he didn’t have to. Probably hadn’t slept well, either, nervous over what the day would bring. Dean himself was nervous, and this wasn’t even his career, so he couldn’t imagine what Cas must be feeling.

 

***

_Oh na na, what’s my name_

_Oh na na, what’s my name_

Castiel’s phone blared out, startling him awake for a second time that day. He knew he should change the ringtone for unknown callers, but he got them so rarely it never really occurred to him. He now regretted his inattention.

“Hello?” he croaked out, voice sleep-roughened.

“Meg Masters, Crossroads Publishing. Is Mr. Novak there, please?”

Castiel shot up in the bed, feet swinging over the edge. “Uh, y-yes, this is he.”

“Sounds like I woke you up,” a near-feline voice chuckled.

 _Yes, this is definitely the best way to appear professional. By being obviously asleep when you’re supposed to be waiting on a business phone call. Christ._ _At least clear your throat, jackass._

“My apologies. What can I do for you, Miss Masters?” There, that’s better.

Another chuckle sounded, and Castiel got the distinct impression that he wasn’t privy to what she found humorous. “I’m just calling to inform you that Mr. Crowley would like to Skype with you tomorrow at 4:00 your time, to discuss a deal for your book. Is that time reasonable?”

 “Yes, 4:00 would be fine.” Thank goodness he was off work tomorrow.

“Excellent. I’m going to email you a copy of the standard contract to look over in the meantime, and you can discuss further details during your meeting. Just hit reply when you get it and send me your Skype name, so I can pass it along to the boss.”

“Thank you,” he said as evenly as he could school his voice into sounding.

“Later, Novak,” Meg signed off, in a confusingly unprofessional manner. Like she already knew he would say yes.

Squatting down, Castiel peered under the bed and pulled out his laptop and set it on the bed before turning it on. While he waited on the old fossil to start up, he sat down and dialed Dean.

“Well?” Dean said, in lieu of a normal greeting.

“I’m supposed to Skype with the publisher at 4 tomorrow,” Castiel said with a whoosh of breath at the end.

“Hey, that’s awesome!” Dean said, genuinely happy. “Wait. That is good, right?”

Castiel sighed and chewed at the beginnings of a hangnail. “I…I think so. I don’t know what to think,” he admitted.

“Well, far be it for me to tell you how to feel, but either way I’m proud of you, Cas,” Dean said, a smile coloring his voice. “You’ve got this, alright?”

Castiel’s chest tightened at Dean’s encouragement; no one had ever spoken to him with such faith and affection, and it was almost overwhelming. Apparently he took too long to answer, because the background noise of the garage cut off abruptly with the sound of a door shutting on the other end of the line.

“Hey, you okay?” Dean’s voice was concerned, but calm.

Shit. Dean clearly just walked away from his work to go talk in the privacy of his office. Castiel pinched the bridge of his nose, disappointed in himself; he was turning into that clichéd ‘clingy girlfriend’, minus the vagina.

“I’ll be fine, Dean, don’t worry about it. Go back to work, alright? I know you’ve got a lot to do.”

Castiel could practically hear Dean’s frown over the phone as the man sighed. “Alright. Talk to you later?”

“Yeah, talk to you later,” Castiel answered quietly.

Castiel hung up the phone, tapping it absently on his chin. Looking at the clock for the first time since he woke up, he was startled to see that it was already edging on 11:30, giving him less than an hour before he had to be at work. No shower today, then. Double-clicking on the Skype icon, Castiel began tapping his fingers in a harsh rhythm against his knee as he waited for the program to load. Having not used it in over a year, Castiel couldn’t even begin to remember his info, and grew more and more irritated as the little hourglass stubbornly refused to return back to an arrow. After several seconds of nothing, he ran his finger over the trackpad, only to discover that the screen was frozen.

“Noooo! Not now, please, not now! Come on, you piece of shit! Okay, I’m sorry. Just gonna…do something else. Maybe you’ll work here in a minute,” he bargained aloud with the laptop, giving no fucks about how ridiculous he sounded.

Figuring he may as well get at least one thing accomplished, Castiel grabbed some clothes from the ‘dubious, but hopefully passable’ pile, taking a moment to do the sniff test before putting them on. He really needed to do some laundry. Castiel was easily distracted and filled two collapsible hampers with a carefully picked selection of clothes and hauled them to his car, barefoot; if he’s going to date a man with a washer and dryer, he may as well take advantage of it. Coming back inside, he remembered the task at hand and rushed back to his bedroom. Surely that couple of minutes would have allowed his computer time to “think” about opening the program, right?

Okay, maybe not so much.

Screen still frozen, Castiel let out something between a groan and a growl and held down the power button, cringing at not being able to give it a proper restart. He knew rationally that he wasn’t on an actual time crunch to get the information sent in, but his inner overachiever wasn’t listening; that couldn’t look good on him, waiting until 10:00 at night after work to answer the publisher. At this rate he was going to be late to work, but in the grand scheme of things, this was more important and Gabriel could kiss his ass if he didn’t like it; Castiel was always punctual and had never called in sick.

After the customary minute-long wait time, Castiel held down the power button and waited for the familiar whir of the laptop’s fan kicking on. Knowing that he was going to have to wait through the lengthy start up yet again, and being ever-efficient at time management, Castiel pocketed his phone and walked back out into the living room to find his shoes. His keys and wallet were on the coffee table, so he put them in their designated pockets before plopping down on the edge of the couch. He slid his feet into his shoes and had one tied, before an unsettling smell hit him. Without bothering to tie the second shoe, he stood up and sniffed, following his nose to his bedroom.

The sight that greeted him had him frozen to the spot, as his brain struggled to process what he was seeing.  

_Oh shit!_

Words like ‘fire’, and ‘fuck’, and ‘out’, and ‘water’ popped disjointedly into his head as he rushed to the bed. He tried to pat it out, but the flames were spreading too quickly, thanks to the down comforter that he’d had since childhood acting as kindling. Sprinting to the kitchen, he located a box of baking soda and a mop bucket and ran to the bathroom, shoving the bucket under the tub faucet and turning it on full blast. Castiel recognized that one box of baking soda would be nowhere near enough to snuff a fire of that size, but he certainly hoped it might slow the spread until he could get the water bucket in there. Fueled by adrenaline and panic, he raced into his room, ripping the box top off as he went and flung the contents uselessly over the bed. The flames were rising higher now, having crept up his headboard and were licking dangerously close to the curtains hanging over the window next to his bed. The smoke was getting thicker now, and he made one last-ditch effort and ran to get the now-full bucket, a harsh cough wracking his chest. By the time he returned to the doorway, the curtains had succumbed, and it finally struck Castiel that it was out of his control. His apartment was truly on fire, and the smart move would be to retreat.

Racing to the front door, Castiel threw it open and ran outside, gulping the fresh air. He only allowed a couple of breaths before pounding on his neighbor’s door to warn them, but no one answered. The neighbor on the other side of his apartment, Pamela, was already outside on the phone, eyeing Cas’ front door and speaking in clipped tones. Moving on, he pounded on the next door and was met with the face of a very red-eyed teenager holding a half-eaten Hot Pocket in one hand.

“The building’s on fire!” Castiel practically growled at him.

The teen’s mouth dropped open and the snack hit the ground before he ran back inside.

“Get back out here!” Castiel shouted through the doorway.

“My stash,” came the muffled reply from beyond the living room.

Castiel huffed, but refused to leave the door until he saw the kid re-emerge from the hallway and heading toward the door. He vaguely registered the sound of sirens approaching as he looked to the last door of the building, where Pamela had her arm wrapped around the waist of an elderly man, guiding him through the doorway as she lugged his oxygen tank with her free arm.

Seeing that everyone that was home at the moment was safely outside, Castiel let his gaze fall back to his end of the complex, where two police cars and a fire truck had pulled up and firemen were rushing around as they prepared to put the fire out. He stared at the smoke billowing from his door and his mind dazedly wandered to a special he’d watched on natural disasters, thinking about the pyroclastic flow of volcanoes. Someone was tugging on his arm and trying to talk to him, but the words weren’t quite reaching him. When they pulled more forcefully, he allowed himself to be moved, but couldn’t seem to draw up the wherewithal to be concerned about what they wanted.

***

Dean groaned his delight as he bit into quite possibly the most delicious burger he’d ever gotten from the little place down the road from the garage. Just as he was going for a second bite, his phone rang out the generic tone assigned to unknown numbers.

“Hello?”

“Is this Dean?”

Dean frowned at the strained, unfamiliar voice on the other end of the line. “May I ask who’s calling?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” came the agitated reply, grumbling something about ‘screening calls’ and ‘oldest trick’ before continuing on more clearly. “This is Gabriel, Castiel’s manager.”

Sitting up straighter, Dean sat the burger down. “What’s going on? Is Cas alright?” The caller didn’t respond immediately, and Dean rolled his eyes irritably. “Yes, this is Dean,” he grit out.

Gabriel let out an audible ‘phew’. “Good. So he’s okay for now, I think he’s just in shock, but you need to get down here to his place. It…it’s gone man. Cas’ place burnt down.”

Dean was already up and moving. “On my way,” was all he said before hanging up on Gabriel. He only barely remembered to tell Garth that he was going to be gone for the rest of the day, with a promise to call later, and he was out the door.

Minutes later, as he turned onto the little road that Cas’ apartment building was located on, he spotted the smoke hanging in the air. The smell permeated his air vents as he neared, filling the cab of the car, and Dean grimaced as his stomach turned at the unfortunately familiar smell. He couldn’t even let himself connect that smell with Cas…it was just too much to handle at the moment. Pulling up to the parking area, his heart sank as he took in the sight of Cas, shoulders hunched in as he sat on the trunk of his car, showing no acknowledgement of the man who was trying to talk to him. There weren’t any ambulances around, but a lone fire truck and its crew seemed to have it under control.

Despite the fact that Cas was looking unresponsive, Dean exited the car quietly and strode over with careful steps, not wanting to startle the man as he approached. The man, he assumed was Gabriel, looked up from where he was perched next to Cas and pulled his lips in a thin line, his eyes full of worry.

“Maybe you’ll have better luck than me,” Gabriel said quietly as he slid from the trunk. Stepping closer to Dean, he glanced over his shoulder to Cas before leaning in to speak confidentially with Dean. “I didn’t want to upset him more, so I’ll tell you. I know he worries about his hours and I managed to get him three paid days off, but the rest of his leave…well, the company doesn’t technically offer more than a week. Don’t let him worry about the store though; his job will be waiting on him when he’s ready to come back. Just…take care of him, alright?”

A mixture of relief and irritation swirled in Dean’s gut. While he was glad that Gabriel was trying to help, Dean was hoping that Gabriel would have something to share about what had happened with the fire.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes for a moment, taking in Dean’s conflicted expression. “I’m not being a dick, dude. If I had more to share with you, I would, but he hasn’t said more than to tell me his place was on fire when I called after he didn’t show up to work. He was already catatonic on the bumper of an ambulance by the time I got here, and the only reason I knew how to get a hold of you was because he had you listed as his emergency contact at the store. The EMTs cleared him, but they said that he needs a lot of fluids and rest.” After a pause, he furrowed his brow and worked his lips into a pout of sorts. “Guess I should’ve led with all that, huh?” Gabriel asked sheepishly.

“Yeah, you should,” Dean said mildly. Then he tilted his head pointedly toward Cas. “We’ll call you in a few days, alright?” With a friendly clap to Gabriel’s shoulder that nearly tumbled the shorter man over, Dean thanked him and hoped that his eyes conveyed his genuine gratitude. Gabriel nodded and glanced at Cas with worried eyes once more before walking over to his own car and leaving.

“Hey Cas?” Dean asked carefully.

No response.

Dean stepped closer and laid a hesitant hand on Cas’ shoulder. “Cas? Hey, it’s me, Sweetheart,” he murmured.

Cas flinched slightly at the touch and blinked a couple of times before turning his face up to meet Dean’s gaze. The blue eyes were slightly unfocused as he looked at Dean, confusion clouding his features at seeing Dean there.

“What are you…why…” Castiel fumbled, eyes glancing around to finally take in his surroundings, but not focusing on any one object.

Dean closed the space between them and pulled Cas to his chest, wrapping his arms protectively around him. “Gabriel called me. Christ, Cas,” he breathed.

His arms tightened reflexively around the man when the smell of smoke on his clothes wafted past his nose. Dean wasn’t sure what he should say; Cas was stiff and his arms were still at his sides, and that lack of response was unsettling. Pulling back, Dean saw tears starting to fill the other man’s eyes as he looked down at his knees, swallowing hard in an effort to hold it all back.

It felt too morbid, standing there in front of the burning husk of Castiel’s apartment while the man was trying not to break. Dean reached for Cas’ hand and tugged just enough to get him to look up.

“Hop down. We’re going home,” Dean said gently.

Cas’ mouth worked open and closed a couple times before he started to turn his head to look at the building. Dean caught the movement with his free hand on Cas’ cheek and pulled him in gently for a chaste kiss, shaking his head minutely. “Don’t look at it, Sweetheart,” he mumbled against Cas’ lips. 

With a hard swallow, Cas lowered his eyes and nodded. “I-I…” he took a frustrated breath and tried again. “Clothes,” he said, clearing his throat. “I have clothes in the trunk. Was gonna do laundry.”

Now that he’d gotten Cas to speak, Dean could hear the scratchy rasp of the other man’s voice and grimaced at how his throat must feel.

Dean helped himself to Cas’ left front pocket and pulled out the man’s keys, locating the car key swiftly. Finally getting with the program a bit, Cas slid off the trunk and moved aside so Dean could get the hampers out. He reached to grab one, but Dean just grunted and grabbed them both, so Cas satisfied himself with closing the lid.

“We’ll come back for your car,” Dean said as an afterthought, once they reached the Impala.

“Okay,” Cas nodded. He didn’t argue when Dean opened his door for him or even when he buckled him in, instead opting to lay his head back against the head rest and close his eyes.

Once the clothes were loaded in the back seat, Dean slid to the driver’s side and started the car. Still not sure what he could possibly say, Dean remained quiet as they drove. He decided to make a pit stop at the grocery store and picked up a few things he was running low on, but mostly with the intent of picking up some of the tea that he’d seen in Cas’ cabinets and a bottle of honey to help with his throat. The man was a creature of habit after all, so Dean hoped that providing the tea would help ground Cas, at least a little. He also made a mental note to order some of those outrageously-priced bamboo sheets that Cas seemed to have such a fondness for, when they got back to the apartment. Cas may not have a lot of money, but the man knows where he likes to invest what he has, and apparently sleeping on comfortable sheets is a high priority. Dean may not have been able to replace all of Cas’ things, but he could at least indulge him in some creature comforts.

When Dean returned to the car, Cas appeared to have dozed off, and Dean grabbed the hand that was resting on the seat between them. Those long graceful fingers automatically tightened around Dean’s, but Cas didn’t open his eyes.

“Thank you,” he rasped suddenly.

Dean gave his hand a squeeze before lifting it to his mouth to place a kiss on the back of Cas’ hand. The store was only a block away from Dean’s apartment, so it only took a minute or so to get there. Cas glared at Dean when he tried to imply that Cas wasn’t allowed to carry anything inside, and with something resembling spite, yanked the grocery bags out of the backseat and hauled them in.

They still hadn’t spoken much, but Castiel was grateful, between his throat hurting and not knowing what to say. Now that he was in a different environment, a comfortable one, Castiel became aware of how he smelled and the dry tightness of his skin. He needed a shower. Without thinking, he stood by Dean’s couch and started stripping, each layer removed bringing air to skin that felt suffocated. Once he was completely naked, he let out a long relieved sigh that caught Dean’s attention.

When Dean turned around, he had _not_ expected Cas to be naked, though he felt kind of foolish for it. He started to step forward, but Cas held up a hand and shook his head. “I’m smelly and gross right now and need a shower before I stink up your apartment.”

Dean nodded. “Okay. Well, you know where everything is, so just take whatever you need out of the drawers,” he said with a gesture toward the bedroom.

Castiel gave him a tight grin and lumbered off toward the bathroom, exhaustion from the stress of the day starting to wear on him. He ran the water lukewarm and lathered up his hair with Dean’s shampoo. The smell was comforting, and Castiel let himself relax a bit as it triggered feelings of security and familiarity. It felt even better, scrubbing his body down and watching as the drain carried away the evidence of the shitty day. He felt more focused now; not quite ready to fully process everything, but certainly more aware of his surroundings and his immediate situation. With this small bit of confidence in his ability to cope, Castiel shut off the water and stepped out to dry off. As he contemplated whether it would be acceptable to use Dean’s razor, his eyes fell on the sink and he spied the toothbrush that he’d helped himself to that first night, sitting in the cup where he’d left it.

He wondered if that had been some kind of subconscious move on his part to leave it there, and whether Dean had kept it there out of hope that Cas would return, or if he just hadn’t gotten around to tossing it out. All thoughts of shaving forgotten, Cas reached for what was apparently “his” toothbrush, and made use of it, finally feeling completely clean for the first time all day. He tried and failed to ignore the little flutter in his stomach as he returned the toothbrush to the cup, to rest next to Dean’s.

_You are now officially a 13 year old girl. Congratulations, Novak._

Ignoring himself, Castiel walked out of the bathroom naked, not seeing the point in feigning modesty. Dean didn’t seem to notice him anyway, as he was busy tapping away at his laptop on the couch. Grabbing a pair of flannel pajama bottoms out of Dean’s dresser, he decided to forgo underwear and pulled on the pants. Fuck wearing a shirt too, for that matter. It’s not like Dean would care.

Unsure of what else to do with himself, Cas went to the kitchen and opened the fridge, suddenly aware of how hungry he was. He scanned the shelves and immediately pulled out the bag of shredded cheese and was in the process of hunting down a tub of margarine when his eyes fell on an item that he almost didn’t notice, until the context struck him; there it was, right on the door, the same kind of deodorant that wears. Opening it up, a tiny grin twitched at his lips as he saw that it was brand new, and not cold enough to have been there long. Swiping it on quickly and replacing it, he went back to task and found something even better than margarine; a tub of spreadable butter. Score.

Poking around, Cas found a loaf of bread easily enough and moved on to digging out a skillet and a plate. An idea struck, and he went back to the fridge, pulling out a package of thin-sliced deli ham. He turned around to ask Dean if he’d like a sandwich and was startled to see the man already standing right behind him. He let out a very dignified grunt. Definitely not a yelp, not at all.

Dean grinned sheepishly and bit his lower lip, holding back a laugh. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. But here,” he said, holding out a mug of tea.

By the smell drifting up, it was most certainly his favorite tea, and Castiel’s chest swelled with affection for the green-eyed man in front of him, who was now looking nervous, the longer he stood there. Oh, right. He hadn’t said anything.

“Thank you, Dean,” he said quietly, taking the mug from Dean’s hands.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Dean cleared his throat before turning abruptly to pull something out of the cabinet next to his head. “Here’s this too. I would’ve fixed it for you, but I don’t know how much you like. And I always heard honey’s good for the throat, so I figured…” he trailed off, holding out a squeeze bottle of honey.

It occurred to Castiel that Dean wasn’t just being nice to him; he was trying to take care of him, and it was by far the most endearing thing he’d seen Dean do up to this point. Taking the honey, he grinned and fixed his tea up the way he liked it, aware that Dean was observing him. Thinking back on the discussion about Dean liking to please him, Castiel figured he may as well show the other man how, and spooned up a sip of it for Dean to try.

“This is how it should taste,” Castiel explained, as Dean tried it. He then spooned up a second sip and held it up in front of Dean’s mouth, but made sure to catch his eye before speaking. “Taste it again, and let your tongue commit it to memory,” he commanded gently. Dean’s eyes darkened a bit- much to Castiel’s satisfaction- and he took the sip, working his mouth as he obeyed.

“Good,” Castiel praised with a slight smirk. This was definitely a nice distraction.

They stood watching each other for a long while, until the smell of warm metal brought their attention to the stove, and Dean cleared his throat. “So uh…you cook when you’re stressed?”

Castiel sighed and nodded, pulling his lips into a thin line before turning to start buttering the slices of bread. “And when I can’t sleep, or have something on my mind. But mostly just when I’m hungry,” he said with a little shrug. “You want ham on yours?”

“Yeah,” Dean said with a tiny grin, amused with himself as Cas managed to make something as simple as a grilled cheese fascinating to watch. Unable to resist any longer, Dean slid up behind Cas and wrapped his arms around the shorter man’s waist and placed a soft kiss to the side of his neck.

“What do you say that when we get done eating we go take a nap,” Dean suggested. He was all to familiar with the concept of handling grief with busyness, but he also didn't want Cas to crash after what must be a second wave of adrenaline trying to rise up.

Cas turned his head to catch Dean’s eyes and quirked an eyebrow. “Is that a euphemism for something?”

Dean chuckled and pulled Cas’ back even tighter to his chest. “Surprisingly, no. Not at this moment.” He stroked a thumb absently along the rib it was resting over. “I actually would enjoy taking a nap right about now,” he murmured into the crook of Cas’ neck before dropping a kiss to it.

Cas flipped the first sandwich and then turned around to face Dean. “Well, I’m not curling up with you until you get a shower too,” Cas said, looking pointedly at Dean’s oil-stained t-shirt he was still wearing from work. “And if I might use your computer, I have some emails that need tending to with the publisher, and I can take care of that while you’re showering.”

It was nearly comical, the way Dean’s eyebrows nearly climbed into his hairline. “Dude. Are you seriously still going through with that tomorrow?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I figured that between you and Sam, one of you would be able to lend me a computer to use for the meeting,” Castiel answered, obviously confused at Dean’s incredulity.

“Jesus, Cas! You just…don’t you think you should re-schedule, or something? Pretty sure they’d cut you a little slack, considering your situation.”

Plating the first sandwich, Castiel frowned. “Well, _considering,_ that I now own exactly one piece of shit car, two loads of laundry, and the items in my pockets, it would be prudent to take this publishing offer seriously, despite my reservations. And I have no desire for them to know my living situation. The lady I’ve been in communication with has implied that the man I’ll be meeting with is very sharp and doesn’t bullshit around. If he becomes aware of the desperation of my situation, he could very well offer me much less appealing terms than I’d desire, assuming that I’d be grateful to get whatever scraps he offers. Talented writers are a dime a dozen, and I fear that I have more to lose here than he does, were he to turn down my terms.” Cas sighed and rubbed a tired eye. “Dean, I need to do this. And if I’m going to do it, I need to have everything working to my optimum advantage. It’s not going to be possible, if he’s aware of any vulnerability on my end.” He finished by taking a sip of tea and coughed lightly after he swallowed. The action made him wince and he brought a hand up to rub lightly at his throat.

Dean gaped at Cas’ back, as the man had turned back around to start on another sandwich. When the hell had Cas had time to ponder this? The man was in a fucking stupor when Dean got to him earlier, and now he’s talking contract negotiations? Dean had thought of himself as a professional at putting his own shit aside when necessary, but Cas must be a goddamned master. If he were honest with himself, he was pretty sure that if he were in Cas’ situation, he’d already be halfway to drunk by now.

“How in the ever-loving fuck are you able to think about that shit right now?” Dean hoped that Cas understood that it was an honest question and not some sort of judgment of the man’s character.

“It’s just sword-play,” Cas said with the tilt of his head, as if it were obvious.

Dean knew that Cas was smart, but it had never occurred to him that it extended very far beyond an academic intelligence. And tactical-Cas…well, Dean could admit that it was pretty damned sexy part of his boyfriend's brain. In another life, he probably would’ve made a fine soldie, clearly able to work well under pressure. Before he could stop it, Dean’s brain abruptly rabbit-trailed as it conjured an image of Cas in military uniform, executing all kinds of levels of badassery. A dark chuckle brought his attention back to the man in front of him.

“You’re doing it again…the mind wandering thing.” Cas stepped closer and squinted at Dean’s face for a moment before smirking. “Your pupils are dilated. Did you wander off somewhere sexy?” he teased.

Dean felt his cheeks heat, only made worse when Cas chuckled at the reaction, essentially getting his answer. “Fucking camo,” he grumbled.

With another head tilt, Cas raised an eyebrow. “What was that?” he grinned.

“Camo. We’re getting you some camo pants,” Dean said, a bit self-conscious at how quickly his voice had turned husky.

Cas squinted as he studied Dean’s face for a moment. Then the mother of all smirks appeared on his face before he laughed. “Why Dean, do you have a uniform kink?” he purred.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Dean looked off to the side. “No, not generally.”

Huffing a laugh, Cas shook his head in amusement. “So it’s just me, then? You just want to see me like that?”

“Okay, enough,” Dean grumped.

“What? It’s just one more thing to add to the list,” Cas said innocently, turning back to remove the second sandwich from the pan and turn off the stove.

“What list?”

Castiel shot him a dry look. “So I take it I’m the only one that’s been composing a mental checklist of all the fun and interesting things we can do?” He gave a half-shrug, enjoying the distraction of flirting with Dean. “It’s okay if you haven’t…my list is probably long enough for the both of us.” He waited a beat and then winked, fully aware of the shit-eating grin on his face.

Despite the fact that he saw the life-evasion tactic for what it was, Dean was a weak, weak man when it came to Castiel Novak and still managed to play right into it. That wink was evil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I'm sorry. I hate being mean to my babies, I really do. Especially Cas *groaning and flailing of arms* It'll get better soon, though.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that have been keeping up with this for a while, thank you so much for your patience and encouragement while it's been on a short hiatus. Oh-so-hilariously, just an hour or so after I published the previous chapter, my computer died, and was out of commission for a few weeks. I know, the timing was ridiculous. But anyway, I swear this story isn't forgotten or ignored and I'm back. I can't give an update schedule, but I can say that they'll start coming more regularly again. Thanks again, for sticking around!

The nap never happened, though not for lack of trying. Both men had flopped onto the bed, Dean on his stomach, and Castiel half-sprawled across the other man's side and back, face nestled into Dean's shoulder blade. Cas dozed off first, lulling Dean to sleep with the softest of snores vibrating against his shoulder. Just as the first images of a dream started to unfold behind Dean's eyelids, a loud demanding knock startled him back into consciousness. The sudden jerking of his body woke Cas up too, who tightened his grip around Dean's ribcage and groaned as the knock sounded again.

"Maybe they'll go away," Castiel muttered hopefully.

Dean squirmed to sit up, grinning to himself at the reluctant releasing of Cas' arms around his ribs. The knock came again, and Dean shook his head as he rolled out of the bed. "Nah, dude. That's a cop knock. Wait here."

Unsurprisingly, Victor Henriksen was standing on the other side of the door, folder in hand when Dean opened the door.

“Afternoon,” he greeted with a small nod. “Castiel Novak’s staying with you, right?” Victor asked, peeking around Dean’s shoulder.

Dean crossed his arms defensively over his chest. He didn’t dislike Victor, he really didn’t. But Dean did know that the man was all business, and wasn’t eager to put Cas on the spot for whatever questioning the man intended to do, so soon after watching his home go up in flames. And perhaps Dean was a little irritated over the fact that his “family” seemed to have their noses in everything to the point that even a mere friendly acquaintance knew his business. Victor sighed at Dean’s display and relaxed his posture.

“Look, I’m not here to interrogate your…friend, Winchester. I just need to get his statement real quick, since he was too out of it earlier. Just want his account,” Victor offered.

Before Dean could answer, Cas appeared at his side with a hand at the small of Dean’s back. “It’s fine, Dean. I’d rather just get it over with.”

When Dean glanced over, Cas gave him a tiny nod of confirmation that he meant it, and tugged gently at the hem of Dean’s shirt at the back to indicate that they should let Henriksen inside. The officer watched the exchange with interest, giving Castiel a short nod as he passed through the doorway.

As Cas told his story, Dean couldn’t fight the tension that built in his shoulders as he imagined Cas surrounded by flames, licking much too close to fragile human skin, acrid smoke threatening to choke him. Any number of things could have gone horribly wrong, and Dean wouldn’t have Castiel sitting safely next to him at his kitchen table. An aerosol can could’ve overheated and blown up, throwing shrapnel for all Dean knew. Or Cas could’ve tripped on his way out and broken his ankle and been unable to escape. Would anyone have heard him if he’d called out for help? Images of Cas lying sprawled and unconscious on the floor like had happened to Mary Winchester on the night of her death flooded Dean’s imagination before he could stop it.

He hadn’t even realized he’d tuned out the story, lost to a barrage of memories of Dad shouting at Mary’s still form where she lay on the floor, the air hot and thick as it spilled into the hallway where Dean stood frozen.  Sam so tiny, being thrust into his arms as John barked at him to get out of the house, and Dean trying desperately to remember to hold his brother the way Mom had shown him to hold a baby as he bounded down the steps and out to the lawn.

“Dean.”

Cas’ firm voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and Dean looked up to see that they were alone at the table and vaguely registered the click of the front door closing. The next thing he was aware of was Cas’ hand carding gently through the hair at the nape of his neck. Only when he opened his mouth to speak did Dean realize that his breaths were coming fast and his hands were clamped around the edges of his seat. When he looked up to meet Cas’ eyes, they were large with worry.

“What happened, love?” Cas asked quietly, prying Dean’s hand loose and taking it in his own.

The pet name rolled off of Castiel’s tongue before he could stop it, not even sure where it had come from. He’d never called anyone that in his life. In fact, Castiel had never bestowed anyone with a nickname of any sort, before. Dean’s eyes widened for a moment before turning shiny as he looked away, swallowing hard a few times. Castiel could feel his own face growing hot with embarrassment, but didn’t dare retract what he’d said or pull away from the other man. He could put his own personal emotional dilemma aside for the moment to take care of Dean.

Dean’s breathing eventually returned to normal and he opened his mouth to speak a couple of times, but closed it immediately, as if unable to form the exact words he wanted. He fidgeted in his seat until Castiel took pity on him and stood up, pulling Dean with him. Wordlessly, Castiel led the other man to the couch, but this time Dean didn’t need prompting to lie down and put his head in Castiel’s lap. With the pressure of eye contact removed, Dean seemed to relax a bit more. After a few moments, Dean sighed through his nose and brought a hand up to rest on Cas’ knee.

“When I was four, a fire broke out in Sam’s nursery in the middle of the night. We still don’t know exactly what happened, but me and Dad woke up when the smoke alarms went off, and when he went in there, Mom was unconscious on the floor with a head wound.  He tried to get her to wake up and was yelling at her, and Sam started crying. I guess it snapped Dad out of it, because then Sam was in my arms, and Dad was yelling for me get him out of there.” Dean paused to swallow thickly, picking at a thread on Cas’ pants. “By the time he got back to her, she was gone, and he had to get out. I still remember the way it smelled when the place burned down, and today…god Cas,” he trailed off, fingers tightening around Castiel’s knee.

Castiel’s heart broke for Dean. He’d known that the man’s mother had died in a fire, but Dean had never elaborated on it, and Castiel had never felt that he had the right to ask. It was so unfair, and such a devastating thing for a small child to have to go through. He felt tears stinging his eyes at the thought of Dean, so small and innocent, tasked with saving the life of his brother and how frightening it must have all been, how confusing.  It tore at Castiel’s chest, and a tear finally escaped. He tried to wipe it away before Dean could notice, but the simple act of shifting his hand caught Dean’s attention.  Dean, whose eyes were dull and shuttered, which made it even worse, and another tear stubbornly rolled down Castiel’s cheek.

Dean immediately reached up to wipe it away with his thumb. “No no no! I didn’t mean to make you cry! Fuck,” he cursed to himself as he sat up on the couch. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, Cas. Just…the thought of...I couldn’t…shit.” Words were not working in Dean’s favor, so he did the next best thing.

Castiel was _not_ expecting a lapful of Dean, yet there he was, mouth pressing urgently against his own, much different than the heady kisses they’d shared before. It was nearly frantic, but determined, as if Dean were afraid that if he pulled away, that Castiel would vanish before his eyes. Once Castiel’s brain caught up with what was going on, he wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist and took control of the kiss, slowing it down and gentling it, rubbing a soothing hand against Dean’s flank before pulling Dean’s head down to rest on his shoulder.

“Hey, I’m still here,” Castiel murmured into Dean’s hair, snaking a hand under his shirt to rest a palm on the bare skin of Dean’s back.

With a shuddering breath, Dean turned his head to press a soft kiss to Castiel’s neck, but didn’t say anything. They sat that way for a while, Dean breathing softly into the crook of Castiel’s neck, while Castiel swiped his thumb over of a knob of Dean’s spine. In the quiet of the moment, Castiel thought about his little slip up; he knew that it wouldn’t have tumbled out if it hadn’t had some grain of truth to it. He knew that it was foolish to think about this after such an emotionally wrought day, and tried to put the thought away.

Honestly, Castiel was more than taken aback at Dean’s reaction. He knew that Dean cared about him and wanted him in his life, but it had never occurred to Castiel that he was important enough that he would be grieved. Not that he had such a low opinion of himself, so much as it had been a while since he’d had anyone that close in his life. It was startling, to be so blatantly shown just how much his existence mattered.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Dean muttered against his neck after a long silence.

“Okay,” Castiel whispered, unsure of how else to respond.

Dean let out a long breath through his nose before sitting up straight again. Catching Castiel’s eye, Dean seemed to come to himself then, and stood up, looking at anything but Castiel as he rubbed at the back of his neck. As if his awkwardness wasn’t evident enough, Dean cleared his throat; it was kind of endearing.

“So uh…I guess you’ve got shit to do,” he muttered. “For the thing,” he said, miming the movement of typing.

“Yeah,” Castiel said with a sigh. “I probably need to call Balthazar and let him know what happened and see if he can send me a copy of the email he sent to the publisher,” he said, mostly to himself.

Dean frowned for a moment. “You don’t have your novel backed up anywhere, do you?”

Castiel shook his head. “Not anymore. I had it on a flash drive, but it was in the apartment and I didn’t think to grab it. I’m not worried though. I’m sure Balthazar can hack it from the publishing house if it comes down to it,” he shrugged.

“And that’s not at all sketchy to you?” Dean asked dryly.

“Objectively, yes,” Castiel replied slowly, frowning to himself. He really should make an effort to figure out what exactly Balthazar does for a living.

Dean just smirked and leaned in to ruffle at Cas’ hair before walking off to the kitchen. Without the distraction of Dean immediately in front of him, Castiel’s thoughts turned toward the immediate tasks at hand and he pulled out his phone, dialing up his brother.

Disturbingly, Balthazar not only knew what had happened, but had already sent the email that Castiel needed. When Castiel stumbled over his words in his confusion, Balthazar merely scoffed a 'Please’, but offered no further explanation. But then his voice softened in a way that Castiel had never heard before as Balthazar asked whether he was okay. It was nice hearing the concerned tone, but Castiel just wasn’t ready to go there yet and bit out, “I’ll be fine.”

Fortunately, Balthazar dropped it and bid Castiel goodnight with an order to call if he needed anything.

One more item crossed off the list.

Checking his email to confirm the receipt of the message he needed, he saw that not only did he have his novel back in his possession, but also a confirmation email from an electronics retailer stating that his order was ready for pickup.  Considering that he hadn’t ordered anything, he opened the message to see if he could find a customer service link. When the message loaded, Castiel gasped when he saw his name listed specifically, and the items that had been ordered. Apparently, Balthazar had spared no expense, and there was now a top of the line laptop and every accessory one could possibly need to go with it waiting for him just miles down the road. Castiel’s phone buzzed a few moments later with a simple text:

> You also have a 1 yr subscription to a cloud service, and you’d better bloody well use it.

Castiel typed out an enthusiastic thank you, to which Balthazar only replied with what Castiel assumed was supposed to be an emoticon of a smirk. From there on, the rest of the evening went by in a blur as his mind whirled with each task to be completed, working on automatic. He was endeared at the genuinely worried tone in Sam’s voice as he answered, the calm, diplomatic lawyer-façade that he’d adopted beforehand pushed aside. Once Sam seemed satisfied that Castiel really was up to the task of discussing business, he wasted no time getting their business sorted.

“From what I can see, the contract looks fine, legally speaking. The thing is though, I’m really not versed in what’s typical for this kind of thing when it comes to acceptable payment and all. I did a little research, but every company is different, and it’s dependent on a lot of variables; the possible profitability of the genre you write, your personal marketability, how many books you’re willing to write, the list goes on and on. I have a friend, though, that can help a little more if you’re interested. She said she’d be willing to come over for the meeting tomorrow.”

Castiel had been nodding along as he listened, his heart sinking bit by bit as Sam confirmed that he really might not be able to help all that much. He didn’t feel all that heartened by the offer of help from Sam’s friend, but at that point he knew he needed to take whatever help he could get and asked Dean if it was okay to have a guest over the next day. At Dean’s nod, Castiel agreed to Sam’s offer.  

By the time he got off the phone with Sam, Castiel was practically buzzing with the new-found energy of productivity, having completed the bulk of his tasks. He got a little ahead of himself in the process and was pulling on shoes, ignorant of the fact that he was wearing pajama bottoms, his mind focused only on the prospect of getting his new computer. As he was bent over tying the laces, he was startled by the sudden weight of a hand on his back and let out a small yelp as he straightened back up.

“Where you goin’?” Dean asked, a small smile tugging at his lips.

It took Castiel an embarrassingly long moment to reply, as he realized what he was doing, what he was wearing, and that he didn’t have his car. Rubbing a hand over his face, he sighed.

“Mind to take me to town? Balthazar ordered me a computer and it’s waiting at the store for pickup.”

Dean was pleasantly surprised by the news, considering that Balthazar’s behavior had earned him the title of ‘dickface’, in Dean’s mind. “Yeah, but uh…you might want to put on some real clothes first,” he grinned fondly.

Castiel nodded, looking down his body. Without another word, he went straight to Dean’s room and started fishing through the various drawers and the closet, not paying particular attention to what he grabbed beyond whether it would fit.

Dean was worried. While it had been confusing witnessing Cas keep his head together so well earlier, Dean had figured that getting the phone calls out of the way would’ve calmed the man down a bit. Instead, Cas looked like he was about to vibrate out of his skin as he made for the bedroom. Leaning against the door jamb, Dean watched carefully as Cas pulled out clothes and put them on with what would have looked like enthusiasm if he didn’t know better.

“Hey Cas?” When the man hummed his acknowledgement, Dean continued. “Maybe we should wait til tomorrow.”

Cas’ face went through an impressive array of emotions, first disappointed, then confused, and finally settling on unimpressed. “I think I can handle a trip to pick up a computer, Dean. Besides, it’s only going on six,” he said, checking the time on his phone. “That would give me plenty of time to get it set up the way I like it so I can use it tomorrow. And we could grab dinner while we’re out.”

The longer he spoke, the more stern his appearance became. _Stubborn asshole,_ Dean mused to himself. Despite the fact that he was fairly certain it was a bad idea letting Cas go all Type-A on his life after the day he’d had, Dean couldn’t help but consider that it might be worse, keeping him cooped up. Might be better to indulge him and let him crash once they got home. Irritatingly, Dean’s resignation must have shown on his face because Cas’ eyes un-squinted and his shoulders relaxed a fraction.

“Thank you,” Cas said quietly. At Dean’s nod, Cas stepped back with raised brows and arms spread. “So. Acceptable for public consumption?”

Dean grinned as he finally took a look at what the other man had put on. Cas had donned a plain black t-shirt, black and blue plaid overshirt rolled to the elbow, and a pair of low-rise jeans that had been worn exactly once; Dean had promptly labeled them as the ‘Satanic Nut-Huggers’ and tossed them in the back of the closet to be forgotten. And bless his laziness, because they managed to hang exactly right on Cas’ frame, the belt he’d put on only serving to draw the eye to that wonderful hip-width to upper-thigh circumference ratio. Which of course led him to looking further down, admiring the whole of those powerful thighs and sturdy yet graceful leg shape. Jesus, the man had nice legs.

When Dean’s eyes made it back upward, Cas had an unusually shy grin tugging at his lips, nothing like the smirk Dean would have expected.

“Yeah, Cas, you look good.”  Unable to resist, Dean stepped closer to grasp at Cas’ hips and pull him in for a brief but smiley kiss. “Might need to mark my territory,” he said with a teasing nip at the pulse point.

Cas swatted him away, laughing lightly. “Oh no you don’t. Not til after the meeting.”

“Fine,” Dean grinned crookedly, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “I’ll keep my hands to myself until I get off of work tomorrow.”

The smirk came back with a vengeance. “Okay,” Cas said lightly, moving past Dean and toward the living room.

Dean wasn’t sure what to make of that, but the mischievous gleam in Cas’ eye said enough; Cas had something in mind and had no intention of sharing with Dean until he was good and ready.

 

***

Castiel practically jogged to the couch once they got back, eagerly turning the box containing his new laptop to find the correct side to open it.

Dean kicked the door closed behind himself, hands laden with the to-go bags containing their dinner and joined Cas on the couch once he’d sat the food down. He wasn’t quite sure if it would be safe to stick his hand in the vicinity of the sacred computer box and settled for nudging Cas’ knee with his own to get his attention.

“Food first, Cas. It’ll still be there when you get done,” Dean reminded the other man.

Cas glanced furtively between Dean and the box before giving up with a sigh and setting the box on the coffee table with a muttered, ‘fine’.

 

Dean turned on the TV to the Science channel, glad to find a quiet program to fill in some background noise while they ate. Cas’ comfort food seemed to be the loaded baked potato soup from a little bistro a couple miles away from Dean’s apartment. They ate in silence, Dean sending up a silent prayer of thanks that Cas didn’t seek comfort in exotic flavors because Dean was nowhere near in the mood for anything more adventurous than soup at the moment. Just as he was starting to ponder whether he could recreate the dish for another time, Cas’ voice broke the silence, and Dean’s train of thought along with it.

“Do you know a lady named Missouri?”

“Huh? How do you know her?” Dean asked, confused.

“I don’t. But Sam said that she was a friend and was willing to help with the contract thing, and I figured there was a chance that you know her, too,” Cas half-shrugged.

“Shit,” Dean muttered. At Cas’ look of mild alarm, Dean realized that was probably the wrong thing to say and pressed on. “I mean, that’s good for you…she can smell bullshit from a mile away and doesn’t fuck around.”

“I’m sensing a but at the end of that sentence,” Castiel prodded.

Dean sighed. “Not like that; not about you, anyway. She was a friend of Dad’s and would bring me and Sammy supper sometimes if Dad was working late, or watch us sometimes when he would go on one of his ‘hunts’ when he got a lead.”

Castiel was certain that Dean had never outright discussed what exactly his father did, but sensed that this wasn’t the time to ask. What he did glean though, was that Dean seemed to trust her, despite his displeasure at her coming around. At least that fear was abated.

“So what, did you try to get past her bullshit radar one too many times?” Cas asked teasingly.

“No! Well okay yeah, but it’s not that. She’s got it out for me, man! That woman wields a wooden spoon like a fucking weapon,” Dean said petulantly, rubbing unconsciously at the side of his head as if he’d just been struck.

Castiel barely refrained from snorting at Dean’s haunted expression as the man was no doubt remembering a childhood scolding.

“Sooo…she didn’t put up with you acting like a little heathen?” Castiel grinned.

Dean looked at him flatly, but didn’t respond to the question, and the look was answer enough. Castiel did snort then, elbowing at Dean’s ribs playfully.  

“Oh, she can’t be that bad. Sam seems to like her well enough.”

“Well yeah, because Sam never got caught, the devious little fucker,” Dean huffed.

Castiel enjoyed learning these little tidbits about Dean’s life and grinned to himself, tucking the information away in the ‘Stuff That Makes Him Dean’ file in his brain.

Nodding to himself, Castiel went back to his soup and Dean followed suit. Twenty minutes and a warm, full belly later, Castiel tossed his empty carton back in the bag and leaned back to stretch. As the stretch worked itself out of his body, Castiel sunk into the couch, becoming abruptly aware of the fatigue that had probably been creeping up for some time now. Rubbing his eyes, he also became aware of exactly how itchy and tired they were, irritated from the smoke and heat that afternoon. Suddenly, the idea of looking at a bright computer screen seemed much less appealing. Plus, it’s not like he wouldn’t have plenty of time to play with it before the meeting. What was one more night? Scratching absently at his stomach where his shirt had ridden up, Castiel’s eyes closed as he sunk further into the cushions, his mind wandering toward what Dean might have been like as a child.

“Hey,” Dean said, bumping his shoulder against Cas’. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Nuh uh. Comfy,” Cas muttered, eyes still closed.

The couch shifted when Dean stood up. Then Dean’s hand was tugging at his bicep.

“Come on, man. You’re not sleeping on the couch and waking up all grumpy and squinty because you got shitty sleep.”

Castiel cracked an eye open to refute the claim, but Dean laughed and pointed at him before words could leave Cas’ lips. Not out of any negative feelings necessarily, but now Castiel felt like being obstinate just because he could.

“Yep. That face,” Dean taunted, holding out a hand. “So get up, or I’m carrying you in there.”

Castiel snorted derisively. The very idea; he wasn’t exactly a small man, despite being lean.

That snort hadn’t been intended as a challenge, but Dean was more than glad to accept it as one and dove in, snaking one arm under Cas’ ribs and the other behind his knees.

“Jesus fuck!” Castiel yelped in surprise as Dean scooped him up into a bridal-style hold, arms flying up automatically to wrap around Dean’s neck. Before Castiel could form a proper protest or wiggle free, Dean had already carried him the short distance to the bedroom and was dumping him down onto the bed with a shit-eating grin.

Oh yeah, watching Cas’ face transition from surprise to confusion to indignant was well worth the effort. The two men just looked at each other for a minute, Dean refusing to look away from Cas’ scrutiny. After a long moment, Cas’ eyebrows scrunched together.

“You picked me up,” he murmured.

Dean licked his lips a tad nervously. “Yeah, I did.”

Cas hummed as he seemed to come to some conclusion. “Okay.”

Then he simply proceeded to strip his clothes off, not even bothering to sit up to do it. Dean watched in amusement while he stripped his own clothes, as Cas seemed to make more work for himself as he wriggled around to get the offending garments off of his body. Dean pulled the nearest corner of the covers down and Cas slithered under, claiming the left side as if it had always been his, only barely remembering to take his glasses off and wave them in Dean’s general direction; there wasn’t a nightstand on Cas’ side. Dean chuckled and set them down next to his phone before climbing in the bed himself.

To Dean’s surprise, Cas rolled to his side to avail himself as the little spoon as soon as Dean was settled under the covers, scooting a bit to tuck himself against Dean’s chest. Dean threw his arm over Cas’ waist and was surprised at the way his own heart did a little flip when Cas burrowed in even tighter and let out a pleased little sigh. It felt alien in a way, snuggling up to sleep with a man; Dean’s experiences with men had never exactly lent him to sticking around long enough to fall asleep next to them. Yet here was Cas, most definitely all man, and it felt completely comfortable in a way that the failed nap hadn’t given him the opportunity to ruminate upon.

Warm and sleepy and content, Dean’s mind began to wander to how weird that was going to be waking up with company, and Cas, at that. Unsurprisingly, his thoughts then traveled to sexier places as he wondered if Cas liked morning sex, because Dean would be more than down for that. Now that he thought about it, their living arrangement was going to afford him a lot more sexual opportunities, and he could feel a grin lifting the corners of his mouth. As he pondered the possibilities of waking up to Cas’ mouth wrapped around his cock, or lazy Sunday morning handjobs, something tickled at the back of his brain. He knew Cas wasn’t asleep yet and figured he may as well ask.

“Cas?”

“Mmm?”

“Were you…why did you say ‘okay’?”

When no immediate reply came, Dean figured that Cas had started to doze off and didn’t bother to pursue it. But then Cas was reaching blindly behind the both of them, to land on Dean’s ass and stroke over the firm muscle there.

“I was just adding a couple things to my list, is all,” Cas said through a yawn, squeezing briefly at the ass cheek beneath his hand before taking his hand back.

“What list? The kink list?”

“It’s not all kinky, but yeah,” Cas replied with a smile in his voice.

Dean rubbed his palm over Cas’ stomach encouragingly. “Gonna tell me what you added?”

“Nope,” Cas chuckled, the muscles of his abdomen jumping beneath Dean’s hand.

“Figured as much,” Dean grumbled into the skin of the other man’s neck, heaving a put-upon sigh. “Night, Cas,” he said with a brief kiss to the side of Cas’ neck.

“Goodnight, Dean.”

And for the first time, Dean and Cas got to experience their ‘goodnights’ to each other as a sensation, of voices vibrating against ribs and gentle breath exhaled with each word over nearby skin. The lifeless bits of circuitry and tiny speakers mimicking their voices back to each other over the past few months had no chance of competing with this.

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy Craptastic Real Life, Batman! Sorry it's been so long on the update, but I'm still here. Without further ado...

Waking up was a disorienting process for Castiel. There was sunshine that shouldn’t have been there, and a humming noise that he wasn’t familiar with, both noticed before he’d even opened his eyes. He mashed his face into the pillow and grunted, trying to block the light as he processed where exactly he was and why. He didn’t feel anger, as he’d expected, just a shallow sense of loss. Castiel hadn’t owned anything of monetary value, but he’d had journals and sentimental things in his apartment, mostly from the friends he’d made in high school. Not that any of them had really kept in touch, but those people would always hold a special place as the ones that had shown Castiel that there was another way. More than anything though, he mourned the journals…they had been his refuge for years when he was figuring himself out and in a way, were a part of him.

Castiel was sad about it, sure, but he also felt something like guilt at the periphery of his thoughts; on some level, he was almost relieved that it had all burned. After years of trying to get over the loss of his family, the bitterness had still clung to him, and maybe it was time to let go. He imagined shedding his old life like a snake shedding its skin and smiled to himself at the thought. Maybe the fire was a good thing- a thing that would make him flourish. Still though, he knew it was too early to think too deeply on all of this, despite the fact that his phone showed it to be almost noon, and threw back the covers.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, Castiel shuffled to the kitchen and his eye was immediately drawn to a neon pink piece of paper propped against the coffee maker. Out of curiosity, Castiel flipped it over to see what it had originally been and snorted when he saw that it had been a sale flyer with a coupon for a free oil change from another local mechanic. Flipping it back over, Castiel was unsurprised to see that Dean’s handwriting was messy, but a small smile crept to his lips when he noticed that it looked like the man had made a special effort to make it more legible.

_Cas-_

_Coffee’s ready to go, just hit start. Also, I dug out an outfit for later on the couch. Good luck, you’ll do great!_

_Dean_

_p.s.- you better fucking call me when Missouri’s gone!_

Castiel glanced over to the couch, and sure enough, there was an entire outfit, neatly pressed and draped over the back. He couldn’t help the happy laughter that bubbled up at the gesture; that outfit had been wadded up in a ball in the bottom of the hamper, so Dean must have dug through all of it to find something passable and then taken the time to actually make it presentable. Between that and the note, they may have been small gestures, but spoke volumes of Dean’s nature and Castiel felt affection stir deep in his chest.

After starting the coffee maker, he zipped over to the couch, ready to pull out his new computer and get familiarized with it and make sure that he had his Skype ready to go. Of course computers only change so much, so it didn’t take him nearly as long as he’d expected, to get all the settings the way he liked them and decided to re-read over his novel, as a step toward preparedness. Only pausing to get coffee, he skimmed over his work with fresh eyes and for perhaps the very first time, saw why his brother had sent it in. There may have been some spots that needed cleaning up, but in general his writing wasn’t half-bad, and the revelation came as a surprise. In a sudden burst of confidence, the next parts of the story came rushing into his brain and he decided that it was as good a time as any to make a note of them.

Zoning into his work, Castiel lost track of time and was startled by a knock at the door. He glanced at the time and saw that it was almost 3:00 and flew up from the couch, because that had to be Missouri. When he opened the door, the woman on the doorstep gave him a calculating look and then grinned and thrust what appeared to be a homemade pie into his hands.

“You always answer the door like your brain’s still in another room, don’t you?” she asked.

Castiel stood dumbly in the doorway, a bit embarrassed and not sure what to say. The woman sighed and looked at him pointedly.

“Well? Are you going to let me in, or keep letting the neighborhood see you in your PJs while you keep an old lady waiting on the doorstep?” she asked with a quirked brow.

“You’re not old,” Castiel blurted, stepping aside and setting the pie on the table. “Old enough to be my mother perhaps, but not old.”

Missouri cast him a look that felt like she was looking at his very soul and Castiel grimaced internally, certain he’d said the wrong thing. He was just being honest, though. Finally, she looked away and glanced around the apartment before looking back at him and patting him on the cheek.

“Go get some clothes on and then we’ll talk like civilized people,” she said, moving to sit on the couch.

“Yes, ma’am,” Castiel replied, gathering the outfit from the couch.

Once he’d returned to the living room from changing, Missouri looked him over and nodded approvingly at the light blue button-down and black trousers, but frowned when she took him in from the neck up. He patted his hair down self-consciously.

“I can’t do anything with it,” Castiel said sheepishly. “Anyway, hello, I’m Castiel Novak,” he said, holding a hand out, justifying that manners were better late than never.

Missouri smiled and took his hand. “Missouri Moseley.”

“Can I get you something to drink Mrs. Moseley?” Castiel asked.

Missouri huffed a laugh. “Looks like someone taught you right. Maybe you can rub some of those manners off on Dean. I’ll take some water, please.”

With a tight-lipped smile, Castiel went to the kitchen. His nerves started to work up as the reality of the situation started to sink in and he was struck by the thought that he really did want this book deal to work out. Taking a deep breath, he filled two glasses and returned to the living room to sit on the other end of the couch.

“Alright, time’s a wastin’, so let’s get talking. First of all, you need to know that we aren’t doing any real negotiating or making any decisions today. This meeting probably won’t last very long because it should be more about you and the publisher feeling each other out. Second, I did my research and I know what kind of books Crossroads publishes,” Missouri said with a pointed look.

Castiel felt his face flush because he hadn’t even thought about the fact that this woman would know what he’d been writing.

“I haven’t read your book, nor am I going to, so stop fretting over there like a child that’s been fussed at in class. Your…style, it ain’t my cup of tea, and not necessary for me to read anyway, for what I’m helping you with. I’m just here to give your awkward butt some pointers on presentation, baby boy,” she said with a warm smile.

Castiel let out a deep breath of relief and took a sip of his water. “Am I that bad?” he asked quietly.

“Now you stop that. I know a good person when I see one, so don’t you go beating yourself up for being genuine,” Missouri said sternly. “But genuine can come off as naïve and that ain’t gonna fly.”

They spent the next half hour with Missouri coaching him on various things, including his posture and toning down his bluntness. Fifteen minutes to four, his computer dinged with a message on his Skype from what could only be Meg or Crowley.

_Crowley’s running ahead. Ready to start? – Meg_

Castiel swallowed harshly and looked to Missouri.

“You’ve got this, Castiel. Go ahead,” she said gently. “And I’ll be here, but I’m not doing any talking for you.”

With a nod, he grabbed the computer and headed to the kitchen table so that the camera wouldn’t have him giving a peep show of his nostrils. Missouri followed him and took the seat next to him at the table.

**Yes, I’m ready.**

Seconds later, he accepted the call and was greeted with the sight of a smarmy-looking middle-aged man in what appeared to be an extremely expensive suit.

“My my, Castiel, you certainly are something aren’t you?” the man smirked. “I’m Crowley, by the way, but you already knew that.”

The oily voice and thick British accent set Castiel on edge, and his posture went rigid before he’d realized it.

“Now, onto business. I read your little story and must say, I’m rather impressed with what you have so far, for a novice. Of course, it’s all a bit cliché, but there’s only so much originality to be had in this genre, now isn’t there?”

Castiel forced himself not to frown at the criticism and chose to remain silent; he could tell a person that liked to hear themselves talk, and Crowley was no exception. Missouri reached for his hand under the table and squeezed in a show of support.

“Now, if you’re interested in being published through us, there are a few things that we would expect of you. First of all, you’d be expected to take on an editor to pare down on the lovey stuff and boost the smut content. Second,” Crowley began, but Castiel cut him off.

“But it’s a love story,” Castiel said, allowing the frown this time.

Crowley gave him an unimpressed look. “Ah, it speaks,” he smirked. “And while I appreciate such useful input, I’m here to tell you that love-making doesn’t sell, unless you intend to step it down to PG-13 and cater to the masses. If that’s the case, then we are not the publisher for you. But that’s not what you really want, now is it?”

Suddenly, Castiel wished with everything that Missouri wasn’t sitting there beside him because there are few things more uncomfortable in this world than discussing smut with a mother-figure nearby. As if sensing it, she rose and excused herself to the restroom, much to Castiel’s relief.

“Fine. What else?”

Crowley grinned and leaned back in his seat with a smug look that bristled at Castiel. “You have a look about you, Castiel. Most authors aren’t blessed with sex appeal, but you lucked out on the genetic lottery. It would take you far, to go to signings.”

“I’m not really comfortable with that. In fact, I would prefer to remain anonymous with the use of a pen name,” Castiel replied.

“Of course you would use a pen name. Word of mouth doesn’t spread when people aren’t sure how to pronounce the name. But that’s as far as we could allow your anonymity to go. Between the look and your voice, you’d have the seats wet at the end of each reading and people lining up to buy.”

That…was a bit much to take in. Castiel knew that he wasn’t unattractive, but it’s a whole other thing to be told by a stranger that your attractiveness could be responsible for seats becoming unsanitary.

Castiel huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I seriously doubt that. And I’m not selling myself, I’m selling my work.”

“Ah, but isn’t your work a part of you? Besides, even if you were average-looking, you’d still be expected to go on a promotional tour. Coming in a prettier package just means more sales. Unless,” Crowley paused and squinted before continuing. “You don’t want people to know that you write this sort of thing, do you?” the man asked with a chuckle.

Oh, but it was true. Castiel wasn’t embarrassed about sex, but that didn’t mean that he wanted everyone to know the things that went through his head, and he certainly didn’t want to read the things he’d written out loud. But then again, it’s not like he’d be showing up on national television; it’d likely just be small bookstores and maybe…maybe there was a way to compromise on this.

“What if I agreed to do my readings by video and post them to a dedicated blog or on your site? I have a job, and there’s no way I could get the time off to do any kind of tour. I could do some scheduled livestream readings with a Q & A at the end or something, though,” Castiel offered. It wouldn’t solve the visibility problem, but it would certainly reduce it, and put his ‘appearances’ on his own terms.

Crowley furrowed his brows and drew his lips into a thin line as he thought about the counter-offer. “Three in-person readings at venues of my choice, and the rest on video,” Crowley fired back.

So much for not negotiating today.

“Only if the stops could be worked around my work schedule. I would also expect that my travel expenses be fully covered, and no flying coach, or staying in by-the-hour motels,” Castiel demanded, confidence from the night before returning. Missouri chose that moment to reappear from the bathroom and shook her head with a look of warning.

“Of course. We take good care of our assets here at Crossroads. And I’m sure we could find a way to deal with your work schedule,” Crowley purred, his eyes glinting in victory. “Unfortunately, this is all I have time for today, but I believe that we could get a lot accomplished, if you could make your way to our offices.”

Castiel knew that he didn’t have the money for the trip, but he was just so close, he couldn’t back down now. Figuring that he’d find it one way or another, he agreed to meet in-person with Crowley on Monday at their Atlanta office. After he’d worked out the details of the visit with Meg and closed out the program, he leaned back in his seat and groaned at the ceiling, rubbing his face. What in the hell had he gotten himself into?

“You did good, Castiel,” Missouri said proudly. “Now I’ll remind you that I’m not involved in the publishing business, but I’ll come along for your trip if you want me to.”

“What is it that you do then, if I might ask?” Castiel frowned in confusion.

“I’m a mediator,” she responded, brows drawn. But then a look of understanding dawned on her face and she sighed. “Those boys are gonna be the death of me. You’d think two grown men, and one of them a lawyer, could figure out how to communicate. Always gettin’ ahead of themselves, those two.”

Castiel chuckled and sat back up. “Yet you brought pie,” he gestured to the pastry.

Missouri narrowed her eyes at him, but it wasn’t quite a glare. “Don’t you dare tell that fool I said this, but Dean Winchester is a good man, even if he does aggravate the livin’ daylights out of me. He’s got a smart mouth and he’s stubborn as a mule, but you’ll be hard pressed to find anyone more loyal.”

A smile crept up on Castiel’s face as he thought about Dean, knowing that every word she’d said was true. “Yeah, I know.”

“Of course you do, or you wouldn’t be shacking up with him,” she said with motherly disapproval. “But regardless, you can’t keep hiding your work from him. Dean doesn’t trust easily, and secrets don’t bode well with him.”

“How did you know about that?”

Missouri only gave him a look and gathered her purse before standing up. “If you care about that boy as much as I think you do, you’ll tell him before he goes poking around and finds out on his own.”

Castiel nodded and stood up as well. He was surprised when the woman pulled him into a hug. When she pulled back, she gave him a small smile. “Call me and we’ll set up a time for me to teach you a few more things before your trip, since I know you’re going to insist on negotiating this by yourself.” At Castiel’s look of surprise, she continued on. “You might look soft, but only someone just as stubborn as Dean could put up with him. Now go eat that pie before Romeo gets home and eats all of it.”

With a final fond pat to his cheek, Missouri was out the door. Castiel immediately grabbed the phone and texted Dean.

**> >Missouri just left. I think it went well, but I’d rather tell you about it in person.   4:48 pm**

_\--Telllll me!     4:50pm_

Castiel could practically hear the whine of Dean’s voice and chuckled lightly to himself. But then something occurred to him that made the chuckle turn darker.

**> >You should be careful…I think I rather enjoy you begging ;)     4:51pm**

_\--Oh no you don’t. I’m not that easily distracted.   4:53pm_

**> >Says the man that took two minutes to respond. Regardless, you’ll just have to be good and wait.   4:53pm**

_\--Oh. Then I’ll see you at home, Angel.      4:54pm_

A small shiver swept up Castiel’s spine and his thoughts quickly turned more heated. Dean wouldn’t be home for three more hours though, so Castiel decided to channel his energy more productively and edit the sex scenes he’d written. _No, it’s smut,_ he reminded himself. As he re-read over what he had written, he could see where Crowley had a point and frowned. Nevertheless, he let his mind wander to raunchier territories and carefully started the process of spicing up what he had written. By the time he heard the wiggle of the front door knob announcing Dean’s arrival, he was both painfully hard and somewhat concerned at the fact that he’d just spent nearly three hours thinking rather graphically about sex and had no clue how long he’d had an erection. And nevermind the fact that he’d meant to be done before Dean got home; he intended on telling Dean about the book, just not at this very moment.

When Dean walked in, whatever greeting he’d had ready seemed to die on his tongue as he took in Castiel’s appearance and frowned in confusion, closing the door quietly behind him. Castiel was still wearing the outfit that Dean had gotten out for him that morning and sitting at the table, word processor open and a screen full of words. That in and of itself wasn’t strange, but the fact that the other man’s face was flushed and he was sporting wood while writing was a bit confusing. Then it occurred to him that Cas might have been watching porn and switched over to the document when he heard Dean coming in, like a teenager hiding a skin mag when someone knocks on their door.

“Whatcha been watchin’ there, Cas?” Dean asked, trying to hide a smirk. As if Dean of all people would judge someone for internet porn. Pffft.

Castiel swallowed harshly and cleared his throat, squirming in his seat a bit as he looked away. It was strange, considering that he’d never looked self-conscious about sex before. Dean could tell he was working himself up to answer though, so he waited patiently for Cas to speak. _Jesus, how kinky does he like his porn, if he’s nervous about answering,_ Dean wondered to himself.

“I- I um. I wasn’t watching porn,” Castiel said, sighing as he glanced down at his lap.

“What?” Dean asked, face screwing up in confusion.

If possible, Cas’ face flushed even redder, and Dean was about to become concerned because he’d had yet to see the other man look so flustered.

“I write erotica,” Cas murmured, rubbing the back of his neck and looking at the wall to Dean’s left.

The silence that fell was so thick that Dean startled a minute later when the refrigerator clicked and started humming.

“That’s…” Dean shook his head and put his hands on his hips, chuckling lightly. But then the chuckle grew into a light laugh and then into something resembling a gleeful giggle.

Cas went from nervous to Stink Eye in record time, and Dean hooted in amusement at the face. “Sorry…I swear I’m not making fun of you…eheheh…it’s just…you do realize that _you_ were the one calling _me_ a pervert for like two months, right?” he asked with a wink.

At that, Castiel deflated a bit because okay, maybe Dean had a point. He still had to ask, though. “So…you’re not weirded out or whatever?”

“No, not weirded out. It’s actually kind of hot,” Dean said, eyes flicking over Cas from head to toe. He licked his lips unconsciously.

Castiel’s mind was admittedly still in Sex Mode from the writing, and seeing the desire in Dean’s eyes sent all thoughts of self-consciousness out the window. Dean had accepted his confession easily, and now Castiel’s mind was free to focus on other things, like the way his cock twitched when Dean licked his lips. He couldn’t help but tease a bit and leaned back in his seat so as to give Dean an unobstructed view of his crotch, smirking when Dean’s eyes went exactly where Castiel wanted them to.

When Dean made it back up to Castiel’s face, he frowned when he saw the teasing smirk and crossed his arms over his chest, desperately trying to ignore the arousal starting to stir in his own pants.

“Not cool, Cas. You know I wanna know what happened today,” Dean said, voice a touch whiny.

Cas hummed in thought and palmed at the bulge in his pants, more to get a reaction than anything, and was rewarded when Dean inhaled a little sniff through his nose. Truthfully, Castiel was only half-hard now and could probably ignore it if he wanted to, but Dean was just so receptive to him and it was hard not to preen a bit.

“Fine, I’ll give you the Cliff’s Notes version for now. Crowley said I need an editor and I have to go to three signings, and invited me to the Atlanta office on Monday to discuss a contract in person,” Castiel said quickly.

Dean positively beamed at the news and thrust a fist in the air with a victorious whoop. “That’s awesome!”

Castiel couldn’t help but get caught up a little in Dean’s excitement and grinned. “Yeah, it kind of is,” he said quietly.

“Of course it is,” Dean exclaimed, dropping a kiss to the top of Cas’ head as he passed into the kitchen.

Expecting Dean to go to the fridge and get out a beer, Castiel was surprised when Dean merely got a glass of water.

“What’s that look for?” Dean asked curiously.

“You’re drinking water. After work,” Castiel said, as if it should be obvious.

Dean shrugged, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, well, I figure I need to be hydrated for the victory sex we’re about to have,” he winked.

Castiel took a deep breath and closed his laptop before rising calmly from his seat and walking over to stand a couple of feet in front of Dean, where he was leaning against the countertop. Wordlessly, he put his hand in his pockets and looked Dean over from head to toe, pleased when Dean squirmed a bit under his scrutiny, green eyes already dilating.

“You know, I’m aware that you’ve been doing a bit of research on subbing, Dean; I saw it in your browser history, and I’m very proud of you for taking such initiative,” Castiel said, voice dropping.

Dean swallowed hard as he watched the other man transition so easily from Cas to Angel; it had to be one of the most arousing things he’d ever seen in person.

“I’ve also done a fair amount of research,” he continued on, “just so you know,” Angel said, head tilting and a glint in his eye.

Dean’s pulse thumped at all the implications, but it wasn’t from the nervousness he’d expected to feel for their first time trying this out. Hell, nothing had even happened yet, they hadn’t even touched, and Dean was already getting turned on. Everything about Angel exuded authority and confidence and Dean nearly whimpered at the thought of all the things the man could do to him. The need to touch spiked within him, but he was fairly certain that Angel was standing so far away on purpose.

“Your silence isn’t acceptable, Dean. Not right now, anyway. Tell me what you’re thinking,” Angel said softly, eyes concerned.

“I’m thinking that I’m ready to get this show on the road, Angel,” Dean said, surprised at the husk in his own voice.

That private little smile came across Angel’s face and he stepped forward to take the glass out of Dean’s hand and set it on the counter. Clasping Dean’s wrists in each hand, he held them to Dean’s sides and leaned into the taller man, pinning him against the edge of the counter top and making sure to rock his erection against Dean’s hip. Dean sighed through his nose at the contact, but didn’t dare reciprocate.

“Alright then, here’s what’s going to happen,” Angel murmured into Dean’s ear. “You’re going to go take a shower and I’m going to lie in your bed and jerk off. If you can get done before I get off, I’ll let you fuck me.”

Dean groaned as his hips twitched involuntarily. Still though, it didn’t seem like that much of a challenge; short shower times were nothing for him. As always, Angel seemed to know what was going through his mind and pulled his face back, but rubbed his hips meaningfully against Dean’s.

“Just so you know, I’ve been aroused for three hours now. I don’t intend on taking it easy on myself,” Angel smirked. “So I suggest you make efficient use of your time,” he warned, leaning in to place a chaste kiss to the corner of Dean’s mouth. Then he pulled completely back and started unbuttoning his shirt with a wink before walking off calmly to the bedroom, unbuttoning as he went.

Dean’s lungs emptied with a whoosh that made him lightheaded for a moment. Holy hell. He knew that he liked Cas’ bossiness, but he hadn’t been quite prepared for how damned turned on it would make him. The clink of Cas’ belt being unbuckled in the other room brought Dean back to the challenge at hand and he practically sprinted to the bathroom, not even able to muster embarrassment at the dark chuckle he heard right before the door clicked shut. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! It's a smut cliffhanger! Don't worry though, I swear I won't take nearly as long to update...it's mostly written already ;)


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut. That is all. Heh.

Castiel hadn't been kidding when he told Dean that he had no intention to take it easy on himself. He may have helped Dean a bit by walking calmly and not rushing through undressing, but once he was sprawled out naked on the bed, he wasted no time getting down to business. Dean hadn't been in the shower all that long, but Castiel was getting alarmingly close and the shower was still running. It didn't matter to him who topped, but he was sure that Dean would be a little disappointed if he didn't make it in time and glared at the wall between the bedroom and the shower on the other side, as if his eyes could cut through the sheetrock.

Seconds later, the water shut off and soon after, Dean barreled into the room, still dripping and towel wrapped haphazardly around his waist. Castiel chuckled at the nearly wild expression in Dean's eyes and somewhat reluctantly pulled his hand off of his own cock.

"Just in time," Castiel smirked.

Dean let out a small relieved breath and pulled the towel off, distinctly aware of Castiel's eyes on him as he dried off. Normally it would rouse him to want to stick his ass out or tease with a flirty smolder, but Cas was raking his eyes over Dean in a calculating manner, face neutral except for the dark glint in his eye. He didn't know yet how flexible Cas would be with insubordination and decided he'd rather find out later rather than sooner, despite the fact that the thought of being spanked over Cas' lap had been more arousing than he would've expected. No, right now, Dean just wanted to have sex and hopefully, Cas would start them off easy.

When he dropped the towel to the floor, Cas stood up from the bed and padded over, rooting Dean to the spot with the pure intent in his eyes. He stopped about a foot in front of Dean and gave him a soft smile, reaching a hand up to cup Dean's jaw.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

Dean swallowed back his nerves and anticipation and gave a jerky nod.

"Say it," Cas ordered gently.

"Y-yes, Angel. I'm ready," Dean answered, a slight tremble to his voice.

Angel gave him a small grin, thumbing briefly at his cheekbone before dropping his hand. "Good." Then he began to circle Dean slowly, as if sizing up a prize horse at the fair. Once he was out of Dean's field of vision, it took everything for Dean to resist turning and looking, but he hadn't been told he could move, so he decided to err on the side of caution. He could hear the gentle, steady rhythm of Angel's breaths behind him, but otherwise, Dean wouldn't have known he was there. It was maddening, waiting on Angel to say or do something, and Dean's fingers began to fidget where they hung at his sides. After a minute, Dean shifted nervously on his feet, hyper-aware of the way the hair was practically rising on his neck at the sensation of being watched, but unable to face his watcher.

The unexpected soft press of fingertips to his lower back made him jolt a bit, but he still didn't turn around, even as Angel shushed him and dragged those fingertips across his flesh, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"You're doing well, Dean," Angel said softly. "And I'm very honored to have your trust. In case I haven't told you that already."

It occurred to Dean that Angel had been testing him in a way, and relief poured over him at knowing that he'd passed. Angel stepped back around him and ran his fingertips down Dean's arm from shoulder to knuckle.

"Is green-yellow-red okay for now?" Angel asked, eyes serious. "At least, until we become more familiar with our own limits?"

The nerves that had been working to constrict Dean's throat up to this point seemed to mellow a bit at that, as Dean took in the concern that his boyfriend was showing for the both of them. A small smile crooked his lips as a warm wave of affection for Cas washed over him.

"Yes, Angel, I'm good with that," he replied. "Go ahead and assume I'm at 'green' unless I say otherwise."

Angel tilted his head and smiled serenely. Pleased.

"Go get on the bed and lie on your back, in the middle," Angel ordered.

Dean ducked his head to hide his smile and did as he was asked. Angel didn't join him immediately, instead setting his glasses on the nightstand and then fishing through the drawer until he found what he needed, tossing a bottle of lube on the bed next to Dean's shoulder. His cock twitched as he was suddenly reminded of what Angel had promised him, and glancing up, he was met with a knowing smirk.

"Spread your legs," Angel said with a nod toward Dean's lower body. As soon as Dean had complied, Angel crawled onto the bed and settled himself between them, lining their bodies up from chest to foot and propped himself up on his elbows.

Dean wasn't expecting the closeness and breathed a little sigh of relief. Their mouths were only inches apart, but Angel didn't seem inclined to take a kiss just yet, opting instead to speak again.

"We're going to take this easy for now and just feel it out. However, you shouldn't take this as tolerance for disobedience. Understood?"

Angel's voice had dipped into that deep authoritative timbre that made a shiver threaten at the base of Dean's skull.

"Yes, Angel," Dean replied.

The next moment, Angel's mouth was descending on Dean's in an unexpectedly gentle kiss. He took his time, as if committing Dean's lips to memory, parting them, but keeping his tongue to himself. The kiss stayed languid for what felt like eons, as if they were just making out on a lazy afternoon. It was nice, but soon Dean grew impatient, wanting for that fierce energy that he knew thrummed just beneath the surface of the man on top of him. When Angel pulled back, Dean carefully refrained from letting out a frustrated groan. Of course Angel knew, though, as he chuckled darkly and moved to mouth teasingly along Dean's jawline.

"Just relax and enjoy yourself, love. I'll give you what you need," Cas murmured as he reached the bolt of Dean's jaw.

The endearment had Dean's breath catching in his throat for the second time in as many days. Angel seemed to realize what he'd said and darted his eyes up to gauge Dean's reaction, a small blush rising to his cheeks as a question formed behind his eyes. Dean was torn, honestly. On the one hand, he desperately wanted to be so cherished and accepted as to warrant such a name, but on the other, it made him feel like hell because there was no way he'd earned that.

Angel melted away for a moment and it was just Dean and Cas, pressed close in Dean's bed, the rest of the world only background noise. Cas dropped his forehead to rest against Dean's and his eyes fluttered shut as he let a short breath from his nose.

"I mean it, you know," Cas said, nearly a whisper.

Dean could feel the way Cas' heart was hammering against his chest and something twisted inside of him as he realized that it had probably taken all of Cas' nerve to make that confession. He wanted so badly to accept it, it nearly hurt. Dean swallowed thickly around the knot that had formed in his throat and brought hesitant hands up to run up Cas' back.

"I know you do," Dean finally responded, voice thick.

Cas didn't seem disappointed that Dean didn't return the sentiment as he pulled back to study Dean's face. Sadness ghosted briefly behind his eyes, but Dean got the distinct impression that it wasn't Cas feeling it for himself. Then he sighed and bumped their noses together before bringing his lips back to Dean's. This time, he didn't hesitate to give Dean what he'd wanted and within seconds was lapping at Dean's tongue, sliding and twirling them together, pouring affection into his movements. Dean whimpered into the kiss at the emotional onslaught, but couldn't bring himself to reject it, either; he needed it too badly.

As if sensing that Dean could only handle so much, Cas began to rock his hips slowly, bringing the focus back to the whole reason they were in bed to begin with. Grateful, Dean eagerly reciprocated his own movement, releasing a pleased sigh into Cas' mouth when the kiss deepened, taking on a decidedly more sexual tone. It didn't last long though, before Cas was breaking away to kiss and lick and suckle a line down Dean's throat, hips pushing down harder with steadily greedier motions as the seconds went by. He nibbled at Dean's collarbone, smiling into the skin beneath his lips when a shuddering breath escaped Dean's lips.

Castiel lifted his body away a couple of inches so they could both look down.

“Do you see this, Dean? Do you feel what you do to me?” Castiel punctuated this statement by lowering his hips briefly for a hard, slow thrust against the dip of Dean's hipbone that caused a drop of pre-come to make an appearance, as if on cue. "Just you, love."

Dean felt a flush rise up his neck as an embarrassing little sound escaped without his permission. “Fuck, Cas!”

He really wanted to feel that again, and slid his hands down Cas’ back, relishing the pull of the muscles under his fingertips as Cas rocked again, more gently this time. That gentleness just wouldn’t do. Dean’s hands continued sliding until he had each hand firmly full of ass cheek and pulled Cas down for a hard grind. Each man groaned loudly, but Cas recovered quickly and pulled himself away, just out of reach, earning a small huff from the man beneath him. Balanced on hands and knees now, with a hand on each side of Dean’s shoulders, Cas shook his head with a wicked little grin as he peered into dilated pupils.

“You'll have your turn to run the show another time."

Cas gave him a meaningful look, and in a wordless exchange, they both nodded their understanding; the scene was back on.

"Thank you, Angel," Dean grinned shyly, earning a curious eyebrow lift. But then Angel gave him a soft little grin and pecked him on the forehead.

Sitting up on his knees, Castiel gathered Dean’s wrists and pinned them above the man’s head as he leaned in for a searing but quick kiss. Dean squirmed a bit under the restriction, but only to situate his shoulders more comfortably. He definitely liked where this was heading.

“Now, do you think you can keep your hands up here, or do I need to tie you up?” Angel asked. "I would use a tie," he said, patting dip at his own throat to clarify that he meant a necktie.

Dean saw the flash of excitement in Angel's eyes at the thought of tying Dean up and his cock jerked at the concept, even if his brain was still a bit hesitant to agree.

“Uh, I- I don’t know. Maybe?”

Oh, did he like the idea of that tie with its silky texture wrapping around his wrists. However, Dean also liked the idea of the challenge of doing it through willpower alone. Castiel waited patiently with a neutral face as he watched Dean figure himself out.

“Maybe bring the tie out another time? I think I can follow a simple order.” Dean cocked an eyebrow and grinned.

Castiel huffed a laugh and leaned down to kiss along the man’s stubbled jawline. “You are a stubborn man, Dean. I’m interested to see how long you make it, though; I’m not going to make it easy on you,” he rumbled in Dean’s ear.

And Castiel may have started taking a sort of pride in the effect that his voice had on Dean and chuckled at the goosebumps that appeared along the man’s neck. Leaning back, Castiel was pleased to see a look of excitement and challenge on Dean’s face and allowed a smirk to settle across his features.

“Go ahead, Ang- oh!”

Castiel wasted no time and had already dipped his head down to lave at a nipple, flicking it lightly with his tongue before sucking at the nub, adding the barest scraping of teeth at the end. The he glanced up to catch Dean’s eye and winked as he blew gently across the damp flesh. Dean let out a healthy groan and arched his back, but his hands had stayed put and Castiel had expected as much. After repeating the action on the other nipple, Castiel inched his way down Dean’s body, kissing and nipping at his ribs. A very unmanly giggle burst from Dean’s lips as Castiel found a ticklish spot between the bottom rib and the top of a hipbone.

Castiel grinned widely and chuckled, but moved on, licking his way across the small swell of Dean’s lower abdomen, to lap at the edges of his navel, ignoring the now straining erection that had come to rest nearby. It twitched only inches from his mouth, but Castiel only ghosted warm breath over it in passing as he moved to the other side to suck bruising kisses along the line of the other hipbone.

“Shit,” Dean only managed to breathe out. Angel looked up to see Dean’s arms and fingers twitching in a desire to move and felt ridiculously pleased with himself; he hadn’t even gotten to the bigger temptations yet. He leaned in to lick a teasing stripe from base to tip of Dean’s cock with the very tip of his tongue. Angel looked up through his lashes to watch the man’s reaction and with the eye contact came Dean’s fingers in his hair before the man realized what he was doing. Angel promptly turned his head to nip almost-painfully at the fleshy part of Dean’s inner thigh and after a surprised yelp, the fingers yanked away.

“Shit! Sorry.” Dean was actually blushing and looking off to the side.

“That was a warning; next time, we bring out the tie if you can’t be good.” Angel watched as what was left of Dean’s irises were nearly swallowed and he licked his lips. Placing a gentle kiss to soothe over the nip, Angel gave gentle pecks along that thigh until Dean relaxed again.

Angel rose up to replace Dean’s hands above his head again, but didn’t hold them down and claimed a kiss that spoke of reassurance and asking for trust. Dean kissed his affirmative back, and Angel made a pleased little sound before pulling away. When Angel reached for the lube, Dean's eyes widened in concern, wondering how this was going to work, topping and being submissive.

Dean started to ask, but Angel laid a finger to his lips and gave him a serious look.

“Just lie back and watch, and don’t touch.”

The words died on his lips and Dean did as he was told, although still a bit skeptical.

Re-situating to straddle Dean’s thighs, Angel reached down and fisted his own cock, taking purposefully long pulls as he held Dean's gaze. His hips rocked forward slightly to pump into his own hand and Dean felt the other man’s balls rub up against his own and onto the base of his cock, but only enough to count as a tease. He let loose a low moan at the contact with his by now, severely neglected member.

Still stroking, Angel spoke. “God, Dean. I could come so easily, just doing this. If only you could see yourself- _ah!_ \- all laid out and just waiting on me to make the next move.”

Pre-come was leaking steadily now as he slowed his strokes down to a lazy barely-there rhythm, and Dean’s mouth watered at the sight of the shiny head peeking through the top of Angel's fist as he remembered the heat and weight of the man’s cock on his tongue.

Angel finally let go of his cock and grabbed the bottle of lube and poured a generous amount onto his fingers. Dean watched with rapt attention as Angel reached down between his own legs with the slickened fingers and then let out a little gasp.

“Holy fuck!” Dean’s eyes widened comically. It took every ounce of restraint to keep his arms where Angel had placed them, wanting nothing more than to touch the beautiful man on his lap. “Oh my god, you have no idea what it did to me, hearing that on the phone.”

Eyelids fluttering shut, Angel gave a short grunt. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration, the muscles tensing attractively on his forearm as he began to work himself open on his own fingers, while the other hand had come to rest on his own knee for support.

Dean was certain that he could feel his neurons misfiring as he took it all in over the next several minutes; the graceful angles and lithe muscles relaxing and contracting in concert with each pant and gasp, the unholy sounds that were escaping the man's lips and the even filthier sounds of long graceful fingers and lube creating the slick friction that Dean was going to experience for himself soon.

“Dean,” Angel said, voice deep with arousal, “do you remember what I said that first night we had phone sex? What I’d do if I had you with me?” Blue eyes bore down into Dean, demanding an actual answer.

Certainly, Dean had replayed that image over more than once in his head, but it was a whole other thing to realize that he was actually going to experience that fantasy, and he wondered dimly if he was becoming lightheaded because the rest of his blood supply had drained down to his dick in that moment.

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember,” Dean nodded quickly, uncaring for how eager he must look. “Angel, please…”

"Say it. Tell me what you want," Angel graveled.

Dean's breath shuddered harshly before he was grumbling curses under his breath. "Ride me, Angel, please," he pleaded.

Angel saw Dean’s eyes dart upward toward his own arms, that although trembling with restraint, were still held above his head. Truthfully, he nearly felt pity for Dean, but seeing the utterly wrecked face and trembling arms above his head strengthened his resolve; he was going to do his damnedest to make sure that Dean enjoyed this experience. Suppressing a grin, he busied himself with the lube, applying one last bit to his entrance, and then rolled the condom down quickly on Dean before wrapping slippery fingers around the man’s cock, momentarily taken aback by the sheer hardness and girth of the length in his hand.

The touch was at once nearly painful and an utter relief, and a dry sob was ripped from Dean’s mouth without his permission.

“I-I don’t know if I’m gonna make it,” Dean said, sounding on the brink of devastated at being so worked up. He was panting too harshly and far too close to the edge, so Angel squeezed the base of Dean’s cock with a slight apology in his features. No one had ever responded to Castiel the way Dean did, and he found himself intoxicated with Dean’s desire.

Keeping his grip, Angel leaned in to whisper hotly in Dean’s ear, unable to resist. “You _will_ make it, because you want to know what your cock feels like buried inside of me as much as I want to be able to feel you for days.” His grip tightened as he spoke, anticipating the effect his words would have.

“Goddammit Cas!” Dean nearly wheezed, chest heaving now. “You can’t say that shit!”

Angel smirked at Dean's loss of the scene for the moment, but didn't reprimand him. He waited until Dean had had what was hopefully long enough to calm down and lifted his hips to hover over Dean’s erection. The first nudge against his hole confirmed that he’d made a good decision in working himself more open than usual and Angel took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as he eased his way down. Both men moaned as Angel bottomed out and Dean’s hands drifted down to grasp at the sheets, still dutifully keeping them to himself.

"Your self-control is remarkable," Angel murmured. "Never seen anything like it. I'm lucky to have you, love."

He knew that Dean wouldn't accept the praise easily and took the pressure off the moment by experimentally shifting his hips as he adjusted. Even with the extra prep, Dean's cock felt massive as it filled him up, and Angel made a frustrated little sound, wishing they could get to the good part already.

 

Dean smirked from beneath him, the bastard. Dean then chose that moment to offer up a gentle thrust that while meant to be testing, managed to pull a loud gasp from Angel that could only mean the brushing of his prostate.

“Fucking hell!” Angel shouted, surprised. But then he cast a fiery look at Dean that clearly said, 'just you wait'.

Apparently, this was not going to be the time for slow jams. Angel rolled his hips in a motion that Dean had previously assumed only existed within music videos and strip clubs and felt the air rush out of his lungs. Taking it as encouragement, Angel did it a couple more times and Dean let out a whine that sent heat racing up his spine.

Another brush to his prostate was all it took, and Angel had had enough with the teasing and rose up only to slam right back down. This was Dean's undoing and he finally cracked, hands flying forward to land on the other man's hips. Angel immediately halted his movements and Dean nearly sobbed when he purposefully clenched around Dean's cock.

"I'm going to be extremely upset if I have to get up and retrieve my tie right now," Angel growled between gritted teeth, eyes boring into Dean's.

With great effort and a pitiful look, Dean peeled his hands off of the other man's hips and took a deep breath as he gripped at the sheets again.

"You can use your hips, but nothing more," Angel said, voice calmer now.

Dean visibly brightened and reached his arms back over his head to grab at the slats on his headboard to give himself a little bit of leverage. He also spread his legs a bit wider, and Angel nodded his approval before starting to move again, dropping right back into the punishing movement he'd started moments before, hands coming down to support himself on Dean's chest.

The tight heat was almost unbearable and Dean wasted no time, rising to meet Angel thrust for thrust. The vulgar slap of sweat-slick skin echoed through the small room and much to Dean’s delight, Angel had no problem vocalizing his pleasure, open and free to read. Within minutes, the frenzied rhythm started to falter, but both men were too lost in _needneedneedwantyesnowfuck_ to care that they wouldn’t last long.

“Dean! Oh god. I’m close…fuck! Harder!”

Dean did as he was told, but it just wasn't quite enough, and Angel internally groaned at having to give up on his little game.

"Give me your hands," Angel ordered, voice sounding utterly fucked-out.

Dean's brows knit in confusion and his rhythm faltered, but he held his hands up nonetheless. Angel took them in his own so that they were palm to palm and he held their joined hands out in front of him, appreciating that Dean seemed to catch on to the new tactic in leverage, locking his elbows. It was exactly what he needed and Angel took immediate advantage of it, holding on for dear life and bouncing up and down on Dean's cock like it was the last time he'd ever get laid.

Angel felt the familiar warmth starting to burn low in his gut before long. With a slight shift of his hips, Dean managed to bring that perfect angle back and spots started to dance before Angel’s eyes.

Dean hit that spot repetitively, drunk on the harsh grunts and groans falling from Angel's lips, knowing that truthfully, Cas probably really would be feeling him for a couple of days. Dean's own moans were mostly breath as he fought desperately to hold on until Angel had come first.

"Touch me now," Angel rasped.

Grateful, Dean reached down and stroked Angel's neglected cock furiously, needing the man to come, for both their sakes. It was only maybe five seconds later that Dean felt the familiar clench around his cock.

"CasCasCas- oh god! _Uuuungh_ "

The desperation in Dean's voice was ultimately what did him in, right there. Cas didn’t so much fall over the edge, as get shoved over it and came with an intensity that temporarily stole his voice, his mouth hanging open in a silent shout.

Seeing the normally verbal man lose control of his faculties was enough, and Dean’s vision whited out and his hearing left him for a moment. He felt the bellow leave his throat, but the sound was lost on him as all he could sense was his orgasm pushing out with such intensity that he deliriously wondered if he was capable of shooting a hole through the condom.

Cas somehow managed to maintain his faculties long enough to carefully lift off of Dean's softening cock and roll to collapse on the bed next to Dean. They both struggled for breath for a couple minutes, Cas' hand patting around tiredly between them until he found Dean's and tangled their fingers. After what felt like hours, Dean was finally capable of speech and swallowed in an effort to lubricate his parched mouth.

"Holy hell," he said, voice scratchy.

Cas laughed breathily and gingerly rolled to his side to peel the condom off of Dean's dick and tie it off, grateful that Dean get a little trashcan next to the bed so he could just reach over Dean's chest and drop it in. He swiped the glass of water he was glad he'd thought to come back for earlier while Dean was showering and took a swig before offering it to Dean. The look on his face was nothing short of utmost gratitude as he sat up to gulp down half the glass. Too lazy to get up and go to the bathroom for a cloth, Dean dug around the nightstand until he found a couple of tissues and moved to clean Cas up, but was intercepted by Cas taking the tissues right from his hands.

"It's my job," Cas muttered, wiping the both of them down.

Dean looked at him, puzzled for a moment, before it clicked. "Oh, aftercare."

Cas looked up and gave him a pleased grin. "That's right."

Dean pushed back the sweat-dampened locks from Cas' forehead and chuckled.

"No offense, Sweetheart, but I seriously doubt that you're gonna be taking care of anyone for a minute," Dean said pointedly.

Cas frowned and then winced as an experimental wiggle of his hips sent a familiar, yet long un-felt pain shooting through his tailbone. Once resettled, his face fell and he looked utterly deflated as he looked up to Dean.

"That was horribly shitty planning on my part. I'm really sorry, Dean," he said, eyes wide and looking pitiful.

Needing to wipe that look off of Cas' face, Dean laid back down so that they were face to face and ran a soothing palm up and down the entire length of the man's arm.

"Well, I'm feeling fine for now, so how about this. Why don't I order us a pizza and we'll just lie around in bed til it gets here. You should be able to move better by then, and we'll go snuggle up on the couch and watch a movie while we eat," Dean offered.

Cas' expression melted down into a rough pout, which was at least marginally better.

"I fucked up," he murmured, unable to meet Dean's eyes.

"Hey now, we're learning, alright? And besides, it means a hell of lot that you're even worried," Dean said firmly but kindly, reaching to cup Cas' jaw.

Cas reluctantly glanced up and sighed. "Alright," he nodded.

Dean leaned in and gave Cas a sweet kiss before sitting back up and sliding off the bed on wobbly legs to go to the living room and retrieve his laptop and get another glass of water. When he walked back into the bedroom, Cas had managed to shuffle the blankets around enough to get under them, and a pang of affection gnawed at Dean's gut as he took in the sight of that messy hair peeking out of the top of the covers where Cas had burrowed in. Dean was completely and utterly gone on the man in his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, y'all, hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> My [Tumblr](http://surly-cat.tumblr.com)


	21. Chapter 21

Castiel scrubbed a hand through his hair and then down to his face with a dramatic sigh. His boyfriend was so incredibly kind and good and a million other descriptors, and in Castiel's opinion, it would be to his detriment if he kept doing things like this. Sure, he wanted Dean's support, but he hadn't expected it beyond a 'follow your dreams' kind of way because really, who would?

"Dean, please. You don't have to do this…Balthazar already offered to buy my plane ticket, and I still have enough left in my checking to eat on while I’m down there," Castiel tried to reason.

Dean paused his movements, half-folded t-shirt forgotten in his hands for a moment.

"Oh," he said quietly. Then he nodded to himself and averted his eyes to the shirt he'd been in the middle of folding and finished the task, laying it gently on top of the pile he'd already folded. "Okay," he said, more to himself than Castiel.

Dammit, that's not how Castiel had meant for Dean to take it, but of course he would. Castiel dropped the boxers he'd been holding back onto the clean laundry pile in the middle of the couch and walked over to his boyfriend. Dean wouldn't make eye contact with him and was stiff in his arms when Castiel tried to pull him in for an embrace, but he paid it no mind and ran his palms up and down Dean's back anyway.

"Hey, it's not like that. Of course I want you there with me, but I can't ask you to miss work and not only miss the income from that, but also whatever you'd spend while we're there. You've already done so much for me, love," Castiel said softly, punctuating the last part with a soft kiss to the bolt of Dean's jaw. It clenched, and Dean pulled away, irritated now.

"Like what, Cas? Seriously, please enlighten me to exactly how much I've done. Because from where I'm standing, I haven't really done jack shit that any decent person wouldn't for someone they care about," Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Castiel held up his hand and raised a finger with each statement. "You rescued my drunk ass when you didn't even know me, you've given me a home, which really deserves two fingers," he said, actually raising two fingers. "You've been keeping me fed, you're folding _my_ laundry for god's sake, oh, and yeah. I woke up to a set of _bamboo sheets and a feather pillow_ being delivered today. I know how much those things cost, Dean, and I know you wouldn't get them for yourself. So that means you also paid the outrageous shipping to have it all overnighted. And what am I doing? I'm sitting here useless with a barely better than minimum wage retail job that I haven't been to in days, using up your resources. And you're so goddamned nice to me," he said with an irritated growl and a small shove to Dean's shoulder, as if he'd been personally offended.

Dean stared at Cas as he went off, surprised by the level of irritation in the man's voice. He'd seen Cas' temper flare and then calm before, but this was different. By the time he'd shoved at Dean's shoulder, his breaths were coming fast and his cheeks had pinked, and his eyes were quickly turning glassy with unshed tears. Cas' hands were on his hips now, and he was looking resolutely at the floor. It made Dean's heart ache to see him so obviously overwhelmed by being cared about, and he wanted nothing more than to gather Cas up in his arms and soothe him. Sensing that it would only make it worse at the moment though, Dean refrained and instead went to the kitchen without a word, to give Cas a minute to collect himself with some modicum of dignity.

Filling a mug with water, Dean began the process of making a cup of tea. He popped it in the microwave and pulled out an herbal blend that Cas seemed to prefer in the evenings, Dean assuming it was meant to calm. When the microwave beeped, Dean pulled the mug out, and glanced over to the living room. Cas was seated on the couch now, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, and fingers running absently through his own hair in a self-calming gesture.

As soon as the tea was steeped and honeyed, Dean made his way out to the living room and carefully placed it down on the coffee table in front of Cas. When the scent wafted over to him, his head snapped up and he looked like he couldn't figure out whether to be grateful or mad all over again.

"Hope I got it right. I know you said that the herbal teas don't need to steep as long, so I guessed four minutes. Also didn't use quite as much honey, since this kind isn't as bitter and I just figured it probably didn't need as much to make it drinkable," Dean shrugged. "I thought it tasted fine, anyway."

Castiel felt his eyes threatening to leak again and reached for the mug, drawing a calming breath before taking a sip. It wasn't as sweet as he'd normally take his tea, but it was still good and didn't detract from the effect of the familiar comfort. He hummed his appreciation, and noticed the flicker of relief in Dean's eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have shoved you, and-"

"You're right, you shouldn't have," Dean replied, but not unkindly. "But I'm not gonna hear another 'sorry'. Cas, I do what I do because I want to. For the last time, you're not a freakin' burden or a charity case, you got that? And trust me, you wouldn't be living here if I didn't want you here. Granted, I hadn't exactly imagined a month ago that we'd be doing…this, but I'm not complaining either. I know you'll contribute when you're able, but for now I don't want you worrying about it."

"What do you mean, contribute when I'm able?" Castiel asked, realizing too late how it sounded. It wasn't the part about contributing that had caught his attention, but the implications behind it.

Dean looked away at that and picked at a hangnail before chewing at it with his teeth. He seemed to realize what he was doing and made a face as he pulled his hand away, reaching for a piece of paper nearby and fiddling with it instead.

"Well I mean, I was kind of hoping you'd want to um…maybe you'd want to stick around here? Even after you get your book thing settled or whatever. You don't have to or anything, and I understand if you're wanting to get back to having your own place, but uh…yeah," Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Castiel felt kind of dumb for not realizing it until now, considering what he knew of Dean, but it was still a revelation nonetheless that Dean was fine with this not being a temporary living arrangement.

"So…you're asking me to _actually_ move in with you?" he asked carefully, just in case.

"I'm just puttin' it out there, man. If you want to stay I'm totally cool with it, but I get it, if you're not really feelin' it. I know this all happened kind of fast. Either way though, I still want to keep doing this," Dean said, gesturing between the two of them.

Truthfully, Castiel was kind of torn. He liked the domesticity they'd been sharing and so far felt comfortable here. But after years of being on his own, he'd also gotten used to being alone at home and not having to share space with anyone and doing things his own way. Not that he couldn't make compromises, but it was still concerning, losing that utter sense of freedom.

"How about this. Why don't we consider the next three months a trial run? It'd take me that long to save enough to move out anyway, so as long as your generosity holds out, I'll still be here regardless. I'll put what I can aside, and make my decision no later than three months from now. Is that acceptable?" Castiel asked.

A small, tentative smile tugged at Dean's lips. "Yeah, that works."

Castiel allowed himself his own little smile as well, relieved that Dean seemed to understand his reservations. "Good. Now that that's settled, back to the topic at hand."

Dean rolled his eyes and sighed. "I thought this was settled. You said you wanted me to come with you, so I'd like to go. The shop'll survive without me for a day or two."

"But plane tickets are so expensive," Castiel argued.

"Will you please quit worrying about the money? Trust me, my bank account is doing fine. And besides, I don't fly," Dean said firmly.

"Dean, we would've had to leave like six hours ago to get from here to Atlanta on time by car," Castiel said, feeling bad about bursting Dean's bubble.

At this, Dean smirked. "I know. But I was thinking maybe we could take the train. I've never been on one, and it costs about the same as plane tickets, anyway. There's um…there's one rolling out tomorrow night that could get us there with a few hours to spare before you have to be at the meeting."

Dammit. The man had already done the research and everything. Castiel could see that Dean wasn't going to back down, and truthfully, he really _didn't_ want to have to do this thing alone. Letting out a deep breath of resignation, but also relief, Castiel took one last good look at Dean's eyes to confirm the honesty of his offer and finding it, nodded.

"Fine."

The effect of his acceptance was immediate, as a bright smile broke out on Dean's face.

"Good. Now will you please get your grumpy face over here so I can make it un-grumpy?" Dean asked, beckoning with a single finger.

Castiel grumbled about having a perfectly non-grumpy face, thank you very much, even as he made his way over to his boyfriend and straddled his lap. They made out lazily for several minutes, unrushed and unconcerned for whether it led to anything more. While the sex was fantastic, Castiel was also a person that relished trading kisses and just being close like this, and he appreciated the discovery that Dean seemed to enjoy this too. After a few more minutes, they pulled apart and Castiel ran gentle fingers through Dean's hair.

"This is nice," Castiel said simply, feeling too warm and gooey and relaxed to elaborate much more than that.

Dean's smile was oddly shy at that, but his fingers flexed pointedly at Castiel's hips in agreement. Castiel leaned forward to rest their foreheads together, as he'd become prone to do, enjoying the simple yet intimate contact. He'd always felt like he was making himself too vulnerable to show his previous lovers this sort of emotional touch, but Dean was something different. Plus, in all fairness, he had already kind of started to fall for Dean before he'd even knowingly laid eyes on him. Despite the pretense of friendship with the phone time they'd shared, even back then, Castiel hadn't quite been able to see this man as just a friend.

Dean's hands had wandered under Castiel's shirt to rest on the bare skin of his lower back and his thumbs were swiping absently. Castiel sighed into the sensation, wishing they could just sit like that a little longer, but there were things to do.

"I know, we've got shit to do," Dean murmured, voicing Cas' thoughts a little too well.

Chuckling a little to himself, Castiel pecked Dean on the forehead and climbed off of Dean's lap.

"Come on, let's get this laundry folded and get packing. Then I need to get some editing done and finish writing a scene I started on this morning," Castiel said, grabbing up a pair of socks out of the pile and starting to roll them in on each other to pair them.

Dean nodded and stood up, grabbing randomly at black material, expecting it to be a shirt. But once he'd pulled it free of the tangle of other clothes, his eyes widened as he realized that it was definitely too small to be a shirt. Jealousy flamed over his insides, though he knew it wasn't fair, and a joke was quick on his lips, in some sort of knee-jerk reaction.

"Looks like someone left a souvenir," Dean said, twirling the meshy material over a single finger.

Castiel glanced up to see what Dean was talking about and a blush rose up on his cheeks almost instantaneously, but didn't respond right away.

"Those aren't a souvenir," he finally said, quietly.

Dean stopped with the twirling and frowned in confusion for a moment. He held the panties up for his own inspection and saw that they were the kind that cover the hips, but only about the top two thirds of the ass. He was pretty sure he'd heard them called 'cheekies' before. They were lacy around the ass, and artfully meshy in the front so that they were essentially see-through. They were definitely sexy, and another wave of jealousy started to wash over him, until Cas' words really struck him, and Dean swallowed harshly.

"Are these…are these yours?" he asked as evenly as he could, stamping down on the already forming imagery of his boyfriend wearing the flimsy material, just in case he was wrong.

Cas' shoulders were squared defensively, but he was shifting his weight foot to foot nervously.

"How much would it weird you out if I said yes?" he asked.

An involuntary little whimpering noise escaped Dean's throat at the confirmation, and the imagery he'd tried to stamp down came back full-force, and in HD. Embarrassingly, that was all it took to make his cock twitch in his pants, and Dean had to close his eyes for a moment.

"Oh," Cas said, a small note of happy surprise in his voice. After a beat of silence, Dean opened his eyes and saw Cas looking at him with a wicked smirk. "Glad to see you're on board."

"You have no _idea_ how on board I am. I'm so far on board I'm captaining the goddamned ship," Dean said, eyes raking over the other man as he pictured how those panties would cling to his hips, and that perky ass peeking out at the bottom, in the back.

Castiel cackled at that and grabbed the panties out Dean's hands, folding them carefully and adding them to the pile of his other underwear. Dean looked somewhat disappointed.

"I promise you'll get to see them, just be patient," Cas soothed. "But I'm going to warn you…they look pretty awesome on me, so you'd better restrain yourself from ripping them off of me. I happen to like that pair."

"Yes sir," Dean smirked.

* * *

Dean was surprisingly excited about taking the train having never been on one, and Castiel snorted at his boyfriend's dorkiness when he pointed out that their departure was at midnight by singing out a few lines of "Midnight Train to Georgia". Castiel surprised even himself by joining in though, playing Pip to Dean's Gladys in an impromptu giggly rendition of the song, voices cracking and high notes being utterly butchered. It was entirely silly, and Castiel couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed like that, but he hoped that there was plenty more where that came from.

The excitement held through until about an hour or so after they'd boarded the train Sunday night- or Monday morning, depending on how you look at- and then Dean was nodding off on Castiel's shoulder, soothed by ambient hum of the train. Castiel had known that his nerves would be ramped up about the next day, so he'd taken some Benadryll when they got to the station so he could hopefully sleep through the majority of the trip. It had kicked in soon after Dean fell asleep, so Castiel let the medicine pull him under and slept deeply for a good eight hours.

He probably would've kept sleeping, if it hadn't been for a repetitive tapping next to him, waking him up. Blinking blearily, he looked over and saw Dean leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed, brows furrowed and anxiously tapping his hands against his knees. Castiel wanted to be irritated at having been woken up from such a deep sleep, but it was clear that Dean wasn't handling the train ride very well and needed to be distracted. So as not to startle him, Castiel only whispered Dean's name, but it didn't work and Dean gasped at the sudden sound.

Castiel did the best he could, pulling Dean to the dining cart to get some breakfast and talking about anything and everything he could to try and keep Dean's mind off of the train. Apparently, it wasn't very comforting for Dean, waking up to seeing the land whizzing by at an unnatural speed, and he'd worked himself into a near panic imagining the train de-railing and hurtling over the side of a mountain, despite the lack of mountains on their route. He'd been fine when it was dark and he couldn't see it, but in the light of day it was almost as bad as an airplane.

By the time they'd reached Atlanta around lunchtime, Castiel had nearly forgotten his own nerves, in light of trying to soothe Dean. He'd even been okay when they checked into a little hotel room to freshen up and stash the carry-ons they'd brought. Dean took the first shower, while Castiel laid down and closed his eyes, considering all of the information he'd researched about getting published, and playing out the possible negotiations in his head. Once Dean got out, Castiel was well into his thoughts, and blew right past Dean to get to the shower; his nerves were ramping up at an alarming rate, and he really needed the hot water to soothe him.

The shower didn't do as much good as he'd hoped, and by the time he was out and dried off, he was practically vibrating with nervous energy. He was genuinely shocked that he was able to get the contacts in his eyes, with the way his hands were trembling, but he'd be damned if he'd roll into that meeting feeling any less than fully armed; he was well-aware of the effect his eyes could have and fully intended for them to be seen. When he stepped out of the bathroom, the motel room was empty, but there was a note lying on top of the garment bag, where he'd be sure to see it; Dean had left to get them something to eat. At this point, Castiel wasn't sure he could stomach anything, but appreciated the gesture and started getting dressed.

He'd opted to wear his charcoal pinstriped waistcoat and matching trousers, with a white button-up and deep blue tie. Well, he'd intended on wearing the tie, but his fingers were fumbling the material, and he was about two seconds away from tossing the damned thing on the bed when the door to the room opened. He looked up confirming it to be Dean and did a double-take at his boyfriend, wondering why in the hell he'd never considered what the man would look like in anything besides his normal clothes.

Dean smiled briefly in greeting, but then busied himself digging through the carryout bags and arranging their lunch on the table. Castiel practically gaped as he took in the sight of Dean in _very_ well-fitted black trousers, a white button-up with a black tie, and then noted a deep plum lightweight cardigan draped over the back of one of the chairs. Wait a second, that was _Cas'_ cardigan! Oh god, that thought was more attractive than it should be. Sure, the outfit was pretty basic in the grand scheme of things, but Cas hadn't even been aware that Dean owned a tie, much less dress pants. And was that…product? Holy hell, Dean actually styled his hair.

"You okay there, Cas?" Dean asked with a shy smile.

Castiel didn't realize he'd been gawking and snapped to.

"Yeah, um…sorry, I just…you…sorry. Never seen you like that," he said, flustered with himself.

Dean chuckled as he made his way over to Castiel, and once he was right in front of him pulled the forgotten ends of the tie from Castiel's hands. He knotted it with surprisingly confident fingers, and Castiel couldn't help but stare, swallowing at the sight of how beautifully the layer of scruff Dean had left contrasted with the crisp lines of his outfit. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, he had just not been prepared for this, and oh god, the man even smelled good. Castiel was unfamiliar with the scent, and suddenly felt somewhat cheated at having never smelled it on Dean before.

"There we go," Dean said with a little nod to himself, as he finished with Castiel's tie. He then moved right on to buttoning the waistcoat over it, and fiddled with his collar before backing up to inspect his work. When his eyes came up to meet Cas', he was nearly startled at how dark they were, and unhindered by the glasses, the look was even more intense than usual. Dean knew he cleaned up nicely, but he hadn't anticipated that it would affect Cas so much and cleared his throat; if he didn't say something to break the tension, they'd never make it to the meeting. "So…you're wearing contacts?"

Castiel gave him an unimpressed look at the diversion tactic, but answered nonetheless.

"I've heard many times that I can be 'unnerving' when I look at people, so I figured it would suit me to use that to my advantage today."

Dean just grinned at that because it was true, and reached for Cas' hand to pull him to the little table by the window. "Come on, food's gonna get cold."

Cas let himself be led over and they ate quietly. Well, Dean ate, and Cas picked at his meal, but Dean had expected as much. Once they'd finished their meal, Cas pulled his laptop out for what seemed like the eightieth time in the last two days, as they waited on the taxi to get there and take them to the meeting. Dean figured it was Cas' coping mechanism and didn't say anything, letting the man comfort himself with doing whatever he could to feel prepared. He wanted to crawl up behind Cas and give him a shoulder rub or maybe just cuddle him up, but got the distinct impression that a tightly-wound Cas is a 'don’t touch me when I'm busy' kind of Cas.

When a car honked right outside their window some thirty minutes later, Cas' head snapped up, eyes wide with something like terror as the reality of what was to come really and truly sunk in.

"Save your document," Dean said gently, pointing at the laptop.

Cas swallowed as his eyes darted back down to the screen and he did as Dean suggested. Dean pulled on the sweater he'd commandeered from Cas' wardrobe, hoping that Cas wouldn't mind that he'd done it; it was almost summer and they were in Georgia, so Dean had reasoned that it was just too damned hot to wear a proper jacket. Plus, he'd known that Cas wouldn't bother with one either, and hadn't wanted to look overdressed. A low hum brought his attention over to the other man, and the dark look was back in Cas' eyes, despite the tension that was crowding his shoulders. Okay, apparently the sweater had been a good thing.

They didn't say much on the ride over to Crossroads, feeling awkward about talking with someone else in the car, but Castiel did appreciate Dean's thumb rubbing soothingly over the back of his hand the whole way. He'd even managed to silently talk himself into a pretty good place, where he could be okay if Crowley wouldn't accept his terms; Castiel knew that the figure and terms he wanted were fair, and wouldn't take anything less because he knew what he deserved, he'd done his research. Still though, now that he'd had time to think about it, he'd come to realize that he really did want this to work. Although he really did like his little bookstore job, it couldn't possibly compare to the prospect of making his living doing what he really loved.

As the taxi pulled to a stop, Castiel was surprised to see that the building was nowhere near as large and threatening as he'd expected. He felt both relieved and somewhat foolish at the revelation, considering that this wasn't the company's headquarters or anything. Dean was a steady presence at his side as they walked in, murmuring words of encouragement as they made their way to the office that Meg had specified. When they stepped into the reception area in front of Crowley's office, there was already someone sitting in the waiting area, but Castiel only vaguely registered it as he checked in with the receptionist. Dean elbowed him subtly yet insistently, but Castiel ignored him for the moment, figuring it could wait.

"Cas," Dean whispered with a hiss.

Castiel finally looked at him, figuring he had a moment while the receptionist was clicking away at her keyboard, and Dean's expression was what got his attention: his eyes were wide and full of 'what the fuck?' as he tilted his head toward the seating area. Following Dean's line of sight, Castiel looked at the man sitting down and hunched over a bit as he flipped through a small stack of papers. No. Surely not.

"Mr. Crowley will be with you shortly, if you'd like to have a seat, gentlemen," the receptionist said, pulling his attention away for a moment. Castiel gave her a quick but polite thank you and bee-lined over to the man whose presence made absolutely no sense in this office and sat down next to him, with Dean coming to sit on Castiel's other side.

"Hey Cassie," Gabriel smirked, finally looking up from his papers. Then he leaned back to sit up straight and caught Dean's eye. "Dean-o, glad you came to support our boy, here."

"What the hell is going on here?" Cas whispered, trying to keep his voice down. "Why are you here?"

Gabriel chuckled and clapped Castiel on the shoulder. "I'm here to make sure you don't get screwed over. Excellent work, by the way, but I'm going to assume that you have the naughtier version hiding in that bag of yours, am I right?" he asked with a waggle of eyebrows, patting at the messenger bag on Cas' lap.

It was still too confusing, and Castiel could only blink, so Gabriel sighed heavily and with no small amount of frustration. "Look, we can play catch up later, but for now let's just say that a _Fallen Angel_ sent me, m'kay?"

"Jesus Christ, Cas," Dean breathed next to him, hand flying to wrap around Cas' knee. Castiel knew what Dean was thinking and couldn't help but also recall the somewhat paranoid conversation they'd had that night about the possibilities of what Balthazar really does.

Swallowing harshly, Castiel grabbed Dean's hand to ground himself, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. As startling as it was, he trusted Gabriel, and the man was right; this was a discussion for later. Right now, they needed to use every minute they had to discuss their plan.

"Okay," he said with a nod.

Gabriel eyed him shrewdly, and satisfied, started thumbing through his papers. "Good. Now, here's the summary of my game plan," he said, handing a stapled set of papers to Castiel. "Anything you don't agree with, figure it out quickly and tell me."

Castiel skimmed the pages, and was relieved to see that Gabriel's plan was fairly close to his own, with the addition of a few terms that he hadn't realized he should even ask for. When he was done looking it over, he recapped the conversation that he and Crowley had had, and Gabriel smirked at the part where Crowley told him to naughty it up a bit. Gabriel also looked pleased at the tentative terms that Castiel had laid out, and made a quick note of it on his page. He was still writing, when Castiel heard Crowley's distinct voice approaching from down the hall, talking on his cell phone.

"Ah, Mr. Novak, pleasure to see you in person," Crowley drawled as he appeared around the corner, pocketing his phone.

All three men stood up as Crowley approached, and even though he'd barely spoken, Dean already didn't like him. It was the way he looked at all of them, as though he was privy to some secret that the other three weren't. Still though, when Crowley stuck his hand out, Dean took it out of politeness and carefully tamped down the urge to frown as introductions were made.

"Well, gentlemen, I believe we have some business to discuss, if you'll follow me," Crowley said, gesturing toward the door to his office.

Dean tugged at Castiel's elbow and leaned in to whisper one last bit of encouragement.

"You've got this, Sweetheart. I think Gabriel's gonna take good care of you in there, and then later, _I'm_ gonna take care of you," he said, pulling back with a wink.

Castiel wanted to kiss him, but Crowley and Gabriel were looking at them, so he settled for a grin and quick squeeze of Dean's fingers before following the other two men into Crowley's office.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by a conversation with dek-says-so on tumblr, and has some basis in my own experience...surprise! Helping run a bookstore. Thanks for reading!
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> [My Tumblr ](http://surly-cat.tumblr.com)


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